Triangle
by fragrantlily90
Summary: A complicated tale. Or it will be. The synopsis is in the first chapter, but lets just say when Naomi said she needed to do some thinking time in the Roundview corridor, things didn't go into suspended animation while she was in Cyprus. People...including a certain stunning little redhead, made decisions of their own. Decisions that changed their whole direction of travel.
1. Chapter 1

**OK then. This is the first chapter of the story I have been promising for weeks. It might be crap, might be boring even, but you will decide that, not me. The basic premise is that life didn't go as smoothly for Emily and Naomi as the canon delivered (and lets just ignore that abomination called Fire, it never happened) . Naomi did her famous disappearing act to Cyprus...to "do some thinking" which lasted nearly the whole summer break. Even Emily, in her awesome determination to make them work as a couple, lost her motivation. Naomi was gone for weeks and the Love Ball came and went in a dreary blur in her college memory. She went as JJ's date, had a boring night and flatly refused to give him another slice of delicious Fitch pie afterwards. Exit JJ stage left. Naomi?, well, she did a lot of that famed 'thinking' and just when she'd decided to try again with Emily when she got back, found that the redhead had been snared by one Elizabeth Stonem, fresh from torturing Cook and Freddie to distraction. Always the experimental one, Effy.**

 **But in a strange way they (Effily) worked together, both damaged and burned by love. So, Naomi retired hurt after being rebuffed when she tried to make things right and inevitably Cook, the eternal sexual predator, caught her at a weak moment a month later and finally got to 'bone' her, without interruptions this time. Emily suffered a bit, seeing Cook and Naomi going around as a sort of fucked up 'item' at Roundview for the last term, but consoled herself with the increasingly fragile Effy, who needed her much more than the blond it seemed. And more importantly, was unconcerned about what other people including Katie, thought about gay relationships.**

 **They all went off to Uni at the end of the year (well, Cook served a short sentence at Her Majesties Pleasure for his earlier crimes, then turned up at Naomi's student halls at Goldsmiths on release and latched onto her good nature and genuine affection for him as craftily as ever. Emily and Effy got through their 3 years at Bath uni OK, Emily nursing Effy through some inevitable meltdowns and the occasional drunken penis diversion.**

 **Fast forward to today. Naomi is 'living' with Cook, although the arrangement is very...err...loose. She tolerates his permanent 17 year old brain and unrestricted libido in return for his uncompromising support and hero worship of her. Shagging him on a Saturday night is her sole penance and she pays it if not cheerfully, wearily. No one ever came close to the feelings Emily generated in her, but she reckons thats the way of the world after school...fall in love at 16, totally implode, then suffer a dreary half life from then on. Her jaundiced view of life has just been confirmed.**

 **Emily is almost as prosaic about her relationship with Elizabeth Stonem. They bump along together, never quite making it permanent, Effy with the ever present strong meds and Emily using Ms Stonem as a confidante and comforter after the white heat of loving Naomi Campbell hurt her so badly. They make love a bit more often than Cook and Naomi do, but its still a half life, when either of them bother to think about it...which isn't often. They are, as we start the story, just moving home from Bath to London, after Emily gets a job in a prestigious accounting firm. Boring but _very_ well paid. Effy tags along because...well, because Emily is her sheet anchor. Always there, always constant, never demanding and when they are both in the mood, still the hands down best shag she's ever had, male or female.**

 **So...the story begins on the morning of Effily moving day. Should be interesting?**

Naomi

Fucking Cook.

Fucking _Cook_.

I feel the semi hysterical mantra building inside my head and deliberately force it to stop. Otherwise it will become a primal scream and I can't be doing with that at this time of morning.

 _Fucking_ Cook.

OK, maybe just one more time then.

My head aches like a bitch. My body aches too. And so it should, given what happened last night (and most of the early morning hours, my mind sneers at me).

OK, OK, I surrender in resignation to my dark, inner thoughts. I was weak...feeble...compliant... _again_. All the things I said I would never be around him. Shagging James Cook on a Saturday night isn't that unusual. Consider it part of my penance. Living with him surprisingly isn't totally shit, although he has some _disgusting_ habits. He's my rock I suppose and that's not a reference to his ever hopeful erection. He's just been there for me...after the car crash called Emily Fitch...through the bleak aftermath and right on up to my graduation. He's like an annoying rash, keeps coming back but is never quite life threatening.

Oh, and he loves the bones of me. Always has apparently. Which would come as a bit of a shock to one Effy Stonem if she was ever in the vicinity. Which she isn't.

Always has, he tells me regularly. I love him too, I suppose. Just not in the same way. Not even close. And certainly not in the way I loved...No _stop_ that Naomi. No point, water under the bridge, all in the past...etc etc.

Except it never is. Not really.

And definitely not after last night. I swear I am _NEVER_ drinking tequila again, even if Cook walks over with a full tray, howling to the moon. Because its always been my Kryptonite. Turns my libido into a raging monster and my sensible option off switch redundant. Three doubles and I'm up for anything. It should be banned.

Which is why I'm lying here on my own, in a bed still crumpled and frankly a bit smelly from an excess of rampant sex. Cook, with his iron constitution, has already stumbled off to his work. Work which mostly consists of delivering small packages of illegal white powder to overpaid suits in those stupidly opulent office blocks on Canary Wharf a mile away. By rights he should have been busted a hundred times by now, but his boss, who owns not only the courier company, but the franchise for about 50 kilos of Colombian marching powder every month, has virtually everyone on his payroll. The local uniformed policemen, the security guards on the manned entrance to the Isle of Dogs, the doormen of the 200 metre tall buildings he visits every day and even the managers of some of the departments he calls into. So Cook is pretty fireproof and the income his dealing brings in is welcome, even if it does offend my civic pride, relying on him to pay the exorbitant rent on this place.

So...lying here...on my own. Right?

But less than two hours ago, I wasn't on my own, was I? I bet you're thinking I got well tanked up on tequila ( _check_ ) sampled a couple of lines of Cookies 'special brew' ...the stuff he keeps for us, not his regular punters...( _check_ ) and let him fuck me most of the night ( _partly_ true) But that's not the whole story...not even close.

Trouble is, we went to some new shiny bar I've never been to before last night. Full of overpaid city sharks with platinum cards and a liberal sprinkling of over made up wannabe eye candy girls, some no older than 16? Well, that much was true too. But they aren't the reason I'm suffering quite so much.

No, the reason for _that_ left the apartment an hour after Cook. After, as she said cheekily 'One more for the road, Naomi'?

A short, beautiful redhead with stunning brown eyes, a petite little nose and cupid bow lips that I'd kissed for hours. A girl Cook introduced to our table sometime after midnight, when my head was already foggy with tequila and drugs. A girl who, if you squinted hard...and I was squinting plenty by then...looked enough like a certain petite twin from Roundview that the differences were hard to spot.

A threesome then?

Well, yeah. Cook has always been partial to that little delicacy. Nine times out of ten, I tell him to fuck right off. I'm straight, yeah? (well, mostly)

Except I'm not, of course, and he knows that better than me. After...well...after _her_...I was determined to go the hetero route exclusively from then on. Hence the hook up with Cook and the past three years of self imposed conformity. But twice now he's got me drunk and drugged enough to give in. The first time was a bit of a disaster. Only a year after I broke up with Emily. It was all too soon, too much. At first I submerged myself in the pure delight of a naked female body...kissing, touching, exploring. Cook just watched at first, sitting naked on the bed, fisting his erection, waiting his turn. But gradually I began to break down as the passion grew.

She was pretty, available and _sooo_ eager to please.

A bit too available. Bit _too_ eager to please. Way too fucking similar to my one and only lesbian lover.

The girl ended up leaving frustrated and disappointed when I couldn't stop crying and Cookie boy spent the night hugging a tearful and shaking Naomi Campbell. _That_ put the kibosh on any further 'experiments' for a good while.

Until last night.

Last night it was almost three years exactly since, well since Emily Fitch burst over my dull life like an exploding supernova, only to fizzle out, because I was too pussy to hold on to her. Regrets? Yep, just like Sinatra, I have a few...

So...last night. Cook was egging me on, telling me the girl had stopped him on his way to the bar, asking if I was single and that she thought I was gorgeous.. He played along...said me and him were like fuck buddies (which unfortunately for him is pretty much spot on) and if she wanted me...he would have to be in on it. Even if just as a spectator... the fucking perve.

He said she blew him off the first time they spoke. But as the alcohol and high quality charlie was spread around, things got a bit looser. The next time she spoke to him, I was already returning her hot looks. Jesus, she was sexy. Curvy, supple and mouthwatering. I was eye fucking her in return for nearly half an hour before Cook made his move.

It seems she agreed to come over for a drink and a line at our table...then to come back to ours for 'coffee'.

Lets just say the Gaggia in the kitchen stayed off?

Her one condition was that she didn't do cock. No way, no how. Cook could have his wicked way with me during or after she and I made out. That was OK, but any sign of him waving that prodigious technicolor todger near her and she would be out of there.

It kinda worked...at first anyway. I was so dizzy at the prospect of having sex with this gorgeous creature, so similar to...well you know what I mean...that I virtually pounced on her when we got back here.

Again, Cook enjoyed a free girlie show as the girl (I didn't even know her name until we'd made each other come for the first time...and the fact that it was Emma didn't register until later either) Way too close to 'Emily', I think you'll agree. Coincidence piled on coincidence.

Anyway, she was tender, passionate and quite aggressive in her love making. Again, slightly disconcerting looking back considering my only proper lesbian encounter up till then was by a cold lake, with a newly confident Emily topping me. But at the time, the sheer joy of Emma's mouth on mine, her fingers on and even better _in_ me, blotted everything else out. Even when Cook, unable to resist any longer, dropped onto the bed naked behind me and started to shag me from the rear, I stayed in my little gay bubble, letting him physically have me, but concentrating totally on the gorgeous girl in front of me.

Once Cook had come, and it didn't take long, considering the front row seat he was occupying to the lesbian show, he pulled out of me. I heard the snap of the condom coming off, but just then Emma claimed me again.

By the third time she and I went at it, Cook was starting to realise he'd lit the fuse on something he couldn't put out. Once again a fresh erection was pushed into me from behind, but it might as well have been a carrot, for all the attention I paid it. His second shuddering orgasm I hardly noticed. This cute Emma girl was just waiting for him to finish and get up, before sliding down my body and using her clever tongue to finish what her fingers had started.

I heard Cook give out a long resigned sigh as he left the room naked, to smoke a cigarette, but as I said, I was being majorly distracted by then. I found out two things over the next ten minutes or so. One, my earlier timidity about returning oral compliments was at an abrupt end...and that apparently I'm pretty good at it...according to Emma anyway.

Cook slept on the couch in the other room for the rest of the night I think. But Emma woke me a couple of hours ago and we went at it again. This time I was half sober, but if that fact was supposed to limit the pleasure? No sale.

So now my head is thumping and so is my heart. My companion and flatmate is out, but undoubtedly pissed off big time that his little experiment worked a little too well. My random shag has left, the faint smell of her sweet body as the only sign she was ever here. And me? I'm more confused than ever. If I thought my own teenage 'experiment' was in the past, last night blew that idea out of the fucking water big time.

The napkin by the bed has a message on it, I've read it.

" _Naomi...that was amazing. Time to come out of the closet properly babe. Call me? Emma 07926 541972"_

XXX

Emily

"Come _on_ Eff" I groaned as I tried to lift one enormous suitcase out of the small lift and along the corridor. Effy was standing by the doors, looking at the elegantly decorated corridor with suspicion. Our one bed flat in Bristol was about the same size as the lift here, and although it was my new salary as a qualified accountant (together with Effy's smaller one as a cashier) together with the £25,000 inheritance from my recently departed Granny that made this move possible, I had my doubts too. New job, new home, new life though, huh?

Staying in Bristol was a no no. Effy had started to slip dangerously backwards lately. Several nights now I had had to drag her out of some sordid low life dive where she was in imminent danger of being raped, raped then murdered, or murdered then fucking raped. I don't think the sleazy customers cared which or who went first. If she went off her meds for even a day, the 'old' Effy emerged from her shell like a vengeful phoenix. No...we _needed_ this fresh start. We might not be a conventional 'couple'...hell, sometimes I doubt whether we are a couple at all, but she is all I have, and I am _definitely_ all she has.

Finally Effy shrugged, stubbed her fag out on the heel of her boot and grabbed the case from the other side. This was our third trip upstairs. And I was very definitely flagging...

Ten minutes later, cases inside our new apartment, I looked casually at the apartment door next to ours. There was a small yellowing card inside the business card sized brass frame nailed on at head height.

" _Campbell_ " It said in spidery ball point.

"Fucking _hell_ " I breathed wearily "Give me a break big guy..."...this looking up at the uncaring ceiling "...couldn't our neighbours have any other name...like Smith, or Brown?"

If I had only known then what significance that tatty little card would for me have later, I would have stopped moaning and hauled our cases straight back down to the fucking street...

 **OK, short and not so sweet, but as a taster? You decide.**

 **I'm on jury service for the next two weeks, so updates will be infrequent. But as long as someone...anyone? Cares?**


	2. Chapter 2

**OK...not _so_ much of an overwhelming response to the first chapter, that I was fired up to grind out another chapter come what may, but as I've already written a couple more, I'll persevere until I get told to shut up! That might change.**

 **This one is firstly from Emily's POV. There is a bit of semi smut at the beginning, but more of the coitus interruptus variety.**

 **Mistakes are all mine, forged in the foggy wastelands of my mind. Skins however still unbelievably belongs to the people who ruined it with S6 and Fire...go figure?**

Emily

(S _ounds of heavy breathing and a steady muffled murmuring...you could definitely believe someone was going down on ..._ )

"Em...Em...can you...Oh... _fuck_...Em babe...can you just _stop_?"

I looked up in surprise from my naked prone position between Effy's thighs, slightly shocked at the abrupt request. I know I get a bit 'locked on' as JJ would say, when I'm um _pleasuring_ someone orally, but even with my limited experience of sexual partners (currently limited to Effy, JJ and, well, one significant other shall we say), I don't often get asked to stop mid performance as it were? I _like_ going down on girls...and, well up to now anyway, I've never been asked to stop before the climactic curtain call occurs? By this time in proceedings, I'm more fearing for my hair roots.

I licked my lips nervously, staring in puzzlement up at her, then used the back of my hand to wipe my chin. Effy was still regarding me strangely, her face adopting an expression I can only describe as... apologetic? For a second, I thought I'd lost my (if I say so myself) considerable ability to please a woman. I thought I was doing a pretty good job up till then actually. Effy and I have been together for 3 years now. Through breakdowns, hospital stays, temper tantrums and about a million second thoughts (not just hers either) Sexually however, I've never had to worry about our compatibility. We just clicked...from the moment she rescued me from a steep downward spiral caused by the sudden departure of a certain Ms Campbell, right through that long last term, when I finally decided being a doormat forever wasn't for me. I gave Naomi the cold shoulder when she finally got back...assisted greatly by the fact that Ms Stonem had comprehensively replaced her as my teenage object of lust. Effy literally blitzed me with wall to wall girl sex that summer break. The original Martini girl, she made sure I was so preoccupied by wondering where I would be shagged next, that I hardly had a moment for self doubt. Naomi never actually got a look in, which I suppose was the point, from both our perspectives.

Effy even took on and _won,_ skirmishes with both Katie and my mother...something Naomi had bottled out of completely early on in our so called relationship. My mum tried the well worn ' _Emily's not gay, just confused_ ' approach, which had worked so well on Naomi. Intending to intimidate Effy out of corrupting her easily influenced twin daughter I guess. With a few well chosen blunt words and in the end a flat out refusal, Effy stopped my mother in her tracks, Mama Fitch retired hurt and we carried on as usual (which actually meant shagging on every available horizontal surface in Bristol). Katie required a more...err... physical approach to get her to back off. A confrontation in the corridors at Roundview went from slaps and hair pulling to more direct Stonem action. Effy punched Katie so hard on the jaw she had to be carried to the nurses station and be given a cold compress and high strength painkillers. (Effy pulled a 2 week suspension for that stunt) After that though, my twin restricted herself to cold looks and hissed comments. Both of which were ignored by Effy and me.

It was fucking bliss if I'm honest.

The queen bee hierarchy at Roundview was adjusted to accommodate Effy as the new alpha female and me and her went back to exploring places to practice our sexual techniques in. I don't think any empty classroom or storage cupboard wasn't blessed with orgasmic cries.

So..after all that practice and 3 years of honing my skills since, I was genuinely puzzled why Effy wasn't getting the sort of pleasure from my tongue she always had. I like to think I'm pretty good at arousing and satisfying her. But not tonight, apparently.

"W...what's the matter babe?" I said quietly..."what's the problem Ef?"

Effy stayed silent for a moment longer, then ran her long fingers through my bed hair. Affectionately, but almost with an air of detachment.

"Not your fault, little red" she said with a smile which I guess was supposed to reassure me (it didn't)

Little red was the nickname she's used for me ever since 6th form college. Even though my hair has been its natural brunette for years since.

"Just not feeling it tonight, babe...can we just have a cuddle instead?" she said, but for the first time I could ever remember, her eyes flicked away from my face, almost embarrassed.

My stomach lurched at her tone. Effy _never_ turned down sex. Even when she was off her meds and going through one of her manic crises, she craved the physical side of our affection for each other. Sex was her drug of choice, now that the strong meds prevented her from using coke, MDMA or Ketamine. Sex was the sticking plaster that cured all her ills. Always had.

But not tonight.

I slid reluctantly up her lithe body, licking my own lips to savour the taste I knew I wouldn't be enjoying any more tonight and kissed her open mouth. She returned the kiss passionately enough and I was briefly reassured. I rested my head against her smooth neck and sighed. She might not be in the mood, but I definitely was. The other nickname she used for me was 'pocket rocket'. And for good reason. Once my motor was running, (and going down on Effy always gave me a jump start), I needed my own release. I felt, rather than saw her smile at my obvious jittery agitation.

"Eff..." I said slowly as she stroked my naked shoulder "...you _would_ say if there was something really bothering you babe...wouldn't you? I mean, if there's something up..."

My head was pulled round until our eyes met. Blue...so fucking blue, I thought for the thousandth time...sea blue. Hypnotic. For a fraction of a second I also remembered another pair of blue eyes...obviously that colour was my weakness... but I snapped myself out of it when she gave a small crooked smile at my anxious face.

"Hey...stay with me Em?" she said softly, jolting me out of my momentary reverie "...just because I'm not feeling it tonight...nothing's wrong hun...but hey, I'm forgetting my manners. My little red needs something from me, yeah?"

She reads me so well, I thought wryly as she smirked at my hopeful smile.

"Nothing to stop me doing... _this_ , is there?" she whispered and snaked a slim hand between my thighs. I gasped sharply as she discovered my wetness.

"So if I just..." she teased, circling her finger in small, efficient movements "...do this too?.."

I moaned as her clever finger found the right rhythm instantly. Effy might have been brought up on a cock only diet, but no one ever said she was a slow learner. Naomi Campbell might have been my first 'experiment' but Elizabeth Stonem was definitely masters degree material.

Her mouth closed over mine, tongue claiming my own and my breathless sighs were soon smothered as she kissed me aggressively. My legs opened willingly to her hand as she started to work me up properly.

By the time I was heaving up against her fingers, head back, mouth open and eyes closed, all thoughts of her reluctance to let me fuck her had faded into the background. Effy, when she was determined to distract me, was an unstoppable force. As I moaned in delight, the bed head rattled repetitively against the wall as she thrust into me with two straight fingers and an active thumb on my clit. I had a tiny moment to worry about our new neighbours reaction to our obvious bedroom activities, before the orgasm Effy was giving me took away all logical thought.

Afterwards, as I lay quietly against her sleeping body, physically content, I had a few minutes before sleep claimed me to go back over tonight's events. _Something_ had happened...something to make Effy lose interest in my love making. Maybe it was just the house and city move, I thought sleepily...the change of environment. Given a week or so, she'd be OK. I yawned wearily as the endorphins from my recent climax leached away. Tomorrow is another day and all that...

XXX

 _In the apartment next door, while Cook slept next to her with just a gentle snore to break the sullen silence. Naomi Campbell stared, wide awake up at the ceiling and chewed her bottom lip. Hearing her unknown new neighbours fucking loudly wasn't the worst thing she'd ever heard. But there was something odd nagging at the back of her mind...something faint and almost unreadable. That hoarse female wail as the rhythmic tapping of a bed head against their shared wall reached its peak was somehow eerily familiar. But she couldn't place it for the life of her._

 _Jesus, she thought. That's all we need now. Some stud fucking the arse off his annoyingly vocal girlfriend night after night less than two feet away. Specially as Naomi was off sex now...possibly for ever. Maybe Cook would be OK if they rearranged rooms...put the bed in what was now the living room. She didn't think she could face nightly shagathons next door when her own libido was on hold._

XXX

Naomi

Thank God Cook is a very early riser. Not that he actually needs to go in to work at 6 am, but as he's told me many times, when you live life as desperately as he does, every minute counts. Its as if those few months in solitary confinement at the Bristol hotel for troubled boys changed him for ever. He always was, even as a 16 year old, constantly on the move. Looking for new things to do, new drugs to sample and...well, as we all know, new girls to bone as he charmingly puts it. As one of his bed post notches, albeit an irregular one these days, I should know.

So, when I looked blearily at the bedside clock, watching the analogue hands meet at 06.45, I knew without looking round that he would already be gone. Down to the courier office in Stepney. No work was actually done until the always needy wage slaves in Canary Wharf started arriving at 9, but he knew the location of every early morning coffee shop and supposedly the 'best bacon rolls in London'. I went in with him one morning, just curious to find out what he got up to. Never again. Sitting in a room full of leering Cook clones, eating dead pig meat and laughing at their own sexist jokes is _way_ overrated. If eyes could physically molest me, my tits would have been aching with abuse. I left as soon as I could, feeling half a dozen pairs of hungry eyes caressing my arse as I did...Fuckers.

No, he'd be better off there than cluttering up our place. Specially as we are having...problems...currently.

That threesome might have been briefly pleasurable for both of us (OK, more than a bit for me) but the ripples from it are still spreading. I wouldn't even talk to him at first. Mostly because I was feeling a shed load of guilt at enjoying Emma quite so comprehensively, but also because he got me into the situation in the first place. I don't suppose he's the first 'boyfriend' to get caught out by his own imagination. Wanting to see your girl fucking up a storm with another girl is a pretty well worn male fantasy after all. But finding out that your better half enjoys the sex with a woman so much she pretty much excludes you from the equation is not good for the fragile male ego.

Which is, of course, exactly what happened. Separated from my inhibitions by drugs and the 'almost' familiar beauty of the third party involved, I really went for it. Orgasms with Cook were not a common thing if I'm honest. I've got very good at faking it to make sure he stays happy, but the actual number of times he's got me off is pretty low. Unless I manage to use my own fingers while he's pounding away from behind, or a particularly stimulating bit of internet porn from earlier on that day sticks in my mind (yes, you've guessed the sort of porn I mean), then I just make a few random groaning sounds, tell him he's a stud and make sure I have his balls in my hand at the crucial moment. Works like a charm. Thank God for condoms, huh?

Simple creature, Cook.

But orgasms with the fragrant Emma were _far_ too easy to achieve. And I think, no I _know_ , Cook understands why. My teenage preference for girls did not go unnoticed by James Cook. No one ever said he was stupid.

So he's keeping his head down, being very attentive...even doing the washing up from time to time. In know what he's thinking, and he's right. I'm starting to question quite why we're still together and thats alarming on all sorts of levels. He's always been my anchor, my port in the storm of life. My mother has said on more than one occasion (even though I've seen the doubtful look in her eyes when we visit) that he saved me. Back in Roundview that is...when I was drowning in teenage angst. Watching Emily and Effy all loved up and couply was a shock I don't think I've ever really recovered from. It was a slap in the face when I got back from Cyprus, all bronzed skin and freshly brave, ready to accept Emily's devotion totally, to find out that life had moved on in a definite and very unpleasant way. Seeing them kissing on the steps of the college as I walked my bike to the racks actually stopped me in my tracks. I stood and stared at them as if they'd grown two heads. Emily and Effy? My mind repeated that phrase monotonously. What the actual fuck?

It didn't help when my gormless staring caught the attention of others.

"Disgusting innit?" some mindless blonde clone from Health and Beauty said as she stopped beside me. "Fucking dykes everywhere these days...those two have been at it like knives for weeks...in public too. Always knew that Fitch girl was totally queer, but Effy Stonem? Jesus...she was the school bike before?"

Her words hardly registered, apart from the bit about ' _weeks_ '. It wasn't until she'd walked away that the enormity of that word sank in. Weeks?...

The rest of the day was a blur to be honest. People spoke to me...lessons came and went, but if I was subjected to CIA water boarding, I still couldn't repeat a word anyone said to me.

 _Emily and **Effy**?_

The last straw was when the gorgon herself, Katie fucking Fitch, cornered me in the locker bay as I stashed my books ready to go home.

"Your fault...fucking lezzer bitch" she hissed, face right up against mine. "My sister has gone totally gay now, thanks to you...are you happy now?"

Well, happy is not exactly the emotion I was feeling right then. Devastated, I think would be more accurate.

I just sobbed as she hissed some more insults and eventually she got tired of baiting a helpless victim and left me to it.

Of course, as the week went on, and the torture continued, watching Emily and her new girlfriend disappear at every opportunity to what Cook charmingly called "finger fuck each other senseless" I grew more and more morose. More and more lost and alone.

Katie even gave up tormenting me after a week or so. It was too much of a slam dunk even for her. One nasty comment and my eyes instantly filled with tears and I fled. It happened enough times for Emily...dear sweet Emily...to notice. On the odd occasion when her eyes weren't on Effy, they must have registered that I was suffering.

But 'dear sweet' Emily wasn't quite so dear or sweet in those early post one sided romance days. She followed me into the girls toilets one break and made the position clear.

" _What did you think Naomi? That life would just stop for everyone else when you fucked off to Cyprus to do all that thinking? I fucking_ _ **loved**_ _you_..." Her arms folded to emphasise the mental and physical distance between us.

Oh and how that past tense hurt? My eyes welled up again and I bawled. She passed me a small white handkerchief, which had precisely the opposite effect it was intended to have. It smelt achingly of her essence...strawberries and just... _Emily_. I bawled again, soaking the small cotton square with fresh tears. Emily waited until I had subsided before speaking again.

"I _loved_ you" she said again, less harshly this time "...but you were so determined to push me away...in the end Naoms, it worked. Yeah, it really worked. I'm not the sad little Emily you left behind crying in the corridor. Someone else showed me that life goes on...without you. Someone else wants me and wants me whether or not the world hates it. So...I'm sorry you're upset. But you had your chance Naoms. I'm done being rejected and humiliated every fucking day. Now it's your turn to know what its like"

With that, she turned on her cute green flat heels and left me with just the handkerchief as a reminder of what might have been if I had only been brave enough to take what was offered to me, over and over again.

Weeks of bleak misery followed. Then slowly, the 'old' Naomi Campbell emerged from the tangled wreckage of my life. I went back to being solitary and aloof. It worked, so long as I could reinforce my defences with alcohol on a regular basis. Oh...and one night, after a party the other side of town (never wanted to risk bumping into the newly outed lovers) I can't even remember a thing about, I woke up on a single bed in the student halls, with James Cook snoring beside me. A naked James Cook.

The dull ache between my legs told me everything I needed to know about my drunken surrender to his ever hopeful overtures. He was right all along it seems, we all _do_ come to the Cookie monster in the end...

Several more weeks passed and we'd amazingly become some sort of fucked up public item. I think it was as big a surprise to him as to me. Nothing overt, you understand. At Roundview, I mostly kept him at arms length. But in my room, after more liberal applications of neat vodka, he got his rations and I got some brief sexual oblivion, together with the comfort of his post sex strong arms to sleep inside.

Sad huh?

Once Emily found out I was screwing Cook semi regularly, she even stopped bothering to be polite or care about my feelings. I was a non person again, just like I had been all through middle school.

A levels and leaving Roundview for good, came as a relief for all of us I think.

And now? Now I have a big fucking problem. Shagging Cook isn't entirely unpleasant usually. He has his moments and alcohol still dulls the doubts. But the threesome just won't leave me alone. I should have torn up the note Emma left on the bedside table. But I can't bring myself to do it. Instead it lives at the bottom of my knicker drawer. Somewhere Cook will never hunt for it and somewhere I can pretend I don't actually want to get it out and call her. Because if I do, I know this whole fragile thing will crash completely. Shacking up with James Cook will be revealed as the mirage it really is. And that would break his heart. Something I really don't want to do. Sex with Emma might have been a pale substitute for making love to Emily Fitch...but its still as dangerous as warm nitro glycerine. Liable to go off and spoil everything for ever.

XXX

Emily

"Fuck Eff...where are my _shoes_?" I cried desperately. I was already late for the bus and it looked like a taxi would be urgently required if I wasn't to be late for work. My second day too...it wouldn't look good, would it?

Trust her to decide to wake me this morning with her clever tongue. She fucking knows I am totally helpless if I wake up with her doing _that_...

After the interrupted sex of the other night, its as if a switch has been turned. She's still reluctant to let me sort her out, but she's been at me as if her life depended on it. Night and day. Not that I'm complaining...Effy is nothing if not an ardent student of the Sapphic arts. I might have been gay from day one, but she caught up very quickly when she decided I was 'the one'.

But its almost like she's trying it to block something out. Something thats worrying her. I've checked her meds and she's definitely taking the right doses on the right days. The blister pack of strong anti psychotics and mood soothers are still in the right compartments, being taken every day, as prescribed. And she's not even caning the alcohol or spliffs. She's allowed one drink a day and a joint in the evening, as long as it doesn't send her off to 'cloakroom ticket' land. No Dog Kings allowed, right? But since her refusal to let me finish her off the way I wanted the other night, I've hardly stepped into the apartment before she has my clothes off. I can safely say we've christened most of the horizontal surfaces so far.

But that nagging worry in the back of my mind won't go away. _Something_ is bothering her. Something that makes her keep marking her territory in a way that distracts me no end.

So, after a very pleasant orgasm this morning, I dropped off to sleep with her head still resting on my inner thighs. When Effy decides to go for it, I am totally wasted afterwards. Which is why I'm frantically looking for my shoes (discarded last night when she pounced on me as soon as I got in). I got shagged up against the fridge, which did nothing to improve the delicate contents, but made me moan and sigh a treat.

Effy came out of the bedroom eventually, fucking totally naked, which even in my post orgasmic state, still gave me a twinge. She was nonchalantly holding my missing shoes in one hand.

"These ones?" she smirked, taking in my hungry stare at her tits. She's a bit more filled out these days, but still fit as fuck.

I scowled as I grabbed them and crammed them onto my feet, hopping like a wounded stork.

" _Fuck_ Eff...put something on?...I have to sit in a cab now...the driver will really enjoy me squirming about with that mental image in my head?"

She just grinned and cupped those small but gorgeous tits in both hands.

"All yours" she said, licking her lips, then turned on her heel and gave me the benefit of her pert arse as she walked back into the bedroom...slowly.

I growled in frustration. _Bitch_.

XXX

Effy

The door slammed behind Emily as my girlfriend finally left for the taxi rank. I let out a long sigh and dropped my confident façade at last. I've managed to keep it up for two days now...but the effort is costing me dear. I might be taking my meds religiously, but Emily doesn't know about the extra packet of high dose Tramadol I'm keeping under the bedside cabinet. I need the calming effects of those extra two tabs.

Badly.

Because I know a secret. A secret thats gradually killing me. A secret that no amount of extra sex will solve. I might be keeping Emily semi permanently sated and sleepy with endless orgasms...but sooner or later, the truth will out.

Because I know who lives next door.

Of all the fucking rotten luck.

It was only a glimpse...when I was coming up in the lift the other day and the doors opened just as our neighbours door started to close. I _saw_ her.

Unmistakeable.

Naomi fucking Campbell.

That tatty card with her name on it inside the brass frame was dynamite, about to explode into mine and Emily's 'perfect' world. And it frightens the _shit_ out of me.

XXX

 **Well, any takers, my lovely readers? This one will be a slow burn story. The path to...well, the path to wherever it takes me...will be a long and tortuous one. Coming?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys. Thanks for the feedback and nice comments. Not a long A/N this time, so pause for cheers of relief. Just a brief recap. Cooks libido got the better of him (not for the first time). Naomi enjoyed her three way fun rather too much for his comfort.**

 **The situation at Chez Campbell is...err...tense?**

 **As is it at Chez Effily. Mainly because the 'oracle' has found out who her new neighbours are and is trying to postpone the inevitable explosion with wall to wall distraction sex. Our lusty little button, Emily Fitch is happy with the frequent sex, but suspects something is up with her medically enhanced lover. Which, of course, it very much is.**

 **Mistakes are all mine, Skins are someone else's (boo)**

Naomi

"No Cook...what part of _N. O._ do you not understand?" I folded my arms for emphasis, which even in Cook's limited lexicon of female body language, normally convinces him I'm not interested in his latest brilliant idea.

"Aww come on babe?" he whines unattractively "A bit of blondie forgiveness here? I made a mistake, yeah. Inviting that Emma over here, I get that...but you can't say it wasn't fun for both of us Naomi, now can you?"

He tried the patented Cook ' _little boy lost_ ' expression, which I ignored completely. Little boys do not invite attractive women into their partners beds for some three way rumpy pumpy. Or they didn't when _I_ was at school. But Cook is trying to make amends in his own clumsy way.

I sighed a weary sigh.

Trouble is, I'm just as mad at _me_ as I am at him, and that's making it kind of hard to put it all behind us and carry on with this strange half life I'm living. I didn't just have fun...I had the best, most exciting night of my short life (OK, not including the night by the lake with... _her_... of course. _That's_ locked away under a great big fuck off mental padlock). So he's half right I suppose...which is infuriating. I've taken out that scrap of paper Emma left, with the scribbled phone number and pointed message on it at least twice a day since 'it' happened. But I lack the basic courage to phone her...or to actually throw it away either. Classic Campbell, I think you'll agree?

But Cook doesn't know that. He just knows he fucked up somehow and that I'm still punishing him. Coming in from his work tonight with a big shit eating grin on his face, waving a wad of twenties the size of a dictionary he's earned selling grams of charlie to the suits was supposed to weaken my resolve. His offer of a pricey Indian take away and two bottles of up market red (he hates the stuff, but there seems to be no limit to his contrition currently) was tempting, but then he went and spoiled it with the second part of his 'surprise'.

" _No_ Cook...I don't fucking _want_ to play friendly neighbours tonight. I know some new people have moved in next door...but..."

I knew _that_ was true enough...the sexual percussion section which tapped on our bedroom wall the first night had been repeated at least three times since. Their bed must be well heavy duty, is all I can say. Whoever the stud is, he's certainly getting his moneys worth from little miss hoarse climatic screamer. Whoever she is...she's sure enjoying christening the bedroom with lover boy. Her vocal expressions of pleasure give me a twinge I feel extremely guilty about feeling in my current 'no sex' mood.

"...its bad enough I have to hear him giving her one every night...We don't have to be their best friends too, do we?"

Cook smirked knowingly and I waited for the inevitable punch line. He obviously knew something I didn't.

"That's just it Naomikins" he leered comically. "...It _isn't_ a guy. At least that's what Gerry on the ground floor just told me. Its two well fit _girls_. Lezzers. Fuck me blondie...we have two gorgeous gay girls for next door neighbours. How cool is that? I know you're well off Cookie boy loving at the moment, but..."

I stared at him sullenly instead of answering.

"...But...come on babe. Be fair. You might hate me a bit for that... threesome stuff...but its not right to take it out on them, is it?. Why can't we just invite them over for a friendly Indian and..."

" _No_ Cook" I said firmly, as his dreamy expression revealed the nasty inner workings of the Cook Neanderthal brain. I could all too easily imagine his caveman thought processes. Invite them over... find out if Gerry was right about them being 'really fit'...then not so gently drop into the after take away conversation that I was partial to a bit of fanny time myself now and again and see what ripples that pebble produced.

His motives might be transparent, but no one said he isn't cunning. Fucker.

No fucking way. It was bad enough that I now knew that my dormant teenage preference for girls wasn't ever going away, despite my best efforts. Bad enough that my live in lover thought it was quite sexy for his girlfriend to want to shag other women occasionally. Bad enough that I now knew that the noises I heard from next door were definitely not heterosexual. Coming face to face (stop it) with the actors in that little one act play was too much to consider. If I was careful, the most contact I would ever have with either of our sexually active new neighbours would be a casual ' _hi_ ' in the corridor. This is London, right? People live their whole lives never communicating with the people who live on their street.

Why would I want to be different?

Cook sulked for a bit, but I eventually agreed to the take away Indian and the bottles of wine as compensation for his transgressions. He'd just have to settle for that tonight. It had been a hard day at work and I really didn't need to spend the evening being polite to two total strangers (no matter how 'fit') while my supposed boyfriend laced the conversation with thinly veiled suggestions about doing a bit of neighbourly bed swapping. It probably never occurred to Cook that if they _were_ committed lesbians, the odds on that scenario coming true were about as small as me allowing him into my knickers at any point in the near future.

No...we had a silent meal, improved only by the superior vino, then I sloped off to bed alone. I hadn't finished punishing J Cook Esq. half enough yet. His last minute plea for a consolation blow job was treated with the utter contempt it deserved. His dick and my mouth only get acquainted twice a year. They're birthday and Christmas Day only treats. And that under protest. Conditional on him spending half an hour in the shower first and providing the high strength mouthwash for after I've...well, you get the picture... I'm sure?

XXX

Emily

My legs actually wobbled when I left the apartment this morning. I mean cartoon like exhausted road runner wobbled. Effy had woken me yet again with that prehensile tongue and after ten minutes of delirium, I moaned my total ecstasy at our ceiling for what would be the 5th time in five mornings. Fuck, she's going to kill me with sex at this rate?

Now, to be straight (ha ha, pun not intended) I fucking _adore_ sex. Absolutely fucking crave it. Right from when I discovered the pleasure my own fingers could give me (inevitably as I found out, 6 months after Katie apparently did... competitive bitch) through other...err..implements (my mother nagged me for days about that missing prize courgette she had earmarked for some horrid soup she was planning) including my unforgettable favourite French import, purchased with a red face and trembling hands from a Paris sex shop on that school summer holiday excursion my parents insisted we all went on. I nearly died when the customs guy at Dover saw it in my hand luggage. Vibrators are not, as far as I know, on any list of banned items, but his knowing wink almost made me faint. Katie thought that was hilarious, of course, when I confessed why I had such a flushed face going through Border Control.

"Fucks sake Ems" she scowled "...never heard of mail order, bitch?"

I had, but the very thought of a tubular brown package marked 'Miss E Fitch' arriving at our house, vulnerable not only to my mothers eagle eyes but also my pervy little brothers, made me nauseous. I thought bringing one back from the reputedly more sexually liberal France was a better option. Stupid me.

Anyway, after the initial embarrassment of having Katie inspect it and sarcastically give it marks out of ten for artistic merit and technical performance, my little pink friend certainly earned its keep. Nicknamed ' _Little_ _Naomi_ ' of course, it was about the best thing ever invented...at least I thought so then. The real Naomi certainly never gave me the sort of pleasure the battery powered version did. We shared one night of amazing sex by an icy lake...well, if I'm totally honest, one night when I gave her the benefit of my extensive lesbian internet education and she granted me in return a desultory hand job as 'reward'. Then she fled in the morning's cold light, breaking my poor little heart all over again.

Then, of course, she fucked off to Cyprus for the whole summer break to do all that over thinking and I was eventually rescued from semi obsessed overuse of my pink friend by a stunning brunette with sea blue eyes and a total lack of moral inhibitions. Effy might have started off as a pale substitute for my first love, but over the past few years, she's been all I've needed. OK, there were months where therapy, drugs and breakdowns made it hard for her and me to keep it together. But she was always willing to satisfy my physical appetites. Like I said...I fucking _love_ sex. And she likes to make me happy.

But day after day, night after night? It's like we're on fucking honeymoon or something. The bed, the couch, the shower...even the kitchen counter last night. I'm sort of dazed at how much she seems to need to fuck me at the moment. It's not as if she lets me make her satisfied all that much. By the time she's smiling up at me from between my trembling legs, I'm so wrecked, I can hardly raise a smile of my own, let alone reciprocate. I know _something_ is bothering her, but I can't for the life of me work out what it is.

So, like I said...I'm a bit weary this morning. Last nights straight fingered shag on the counter was followed by some slow but relentless oral loving in bed. Then after I fell into an exhausted sleep, I was woken by her sly caresses again at the crack of dawn (insert your own innuendo). Helpless...thats me...helpless when she gets me going like that even before I wake up properly. I had to physically stop her coming into the shower with me after I prised myself away from her. It was either that or throw a sickie my first full week at my new job? No, this has be be about something. It's as if Effy is consuming me...marking her territory relentlessly.

I worried about it all the way to work. Luckily, I got out of the apartment just in time to avoid the next door neighbours. Their door opened just as the lift doors were closing. For a second, I considered holding the doors politely. But I'm not really a morning person (OK, apart from the sex) and anyway, I'm certain they will have heard me and Effy at least once (OK several times) recently. I'm a bit...loud...when I'm getting my Effy fix. The last thing I want is to share a lift with a pissed off next door neighbour, kept awake by the wall to wall shagging I've been enjoying since we moved in.

No...I let the doors close and sighed with relief when I got out of the front doors before the lift started to ascend to my floor again. Time enough at the weekend to be polite and introduce myself?

XXX

Effy

I know its not physically possible...but I feel like I'm pregnant. Yeah, sick joke, huh?

Quite apart from the fact that Emily isn't capable of sticking a bun in my oven, no matter how many tries she has at it, there is the small matter of my chemically regulated body. The drugs may have changed over the years. From cannabis, through coke, amphetamines and Ketamine/MDMA, I've graduated to Clozapine, Risperidone and Cariprazine. Along with their best friends Secobarbital and Diazepam. Oh...and my little secret stash of Tramadol, which I've started relying on a bit more than I should to keep the panic out of my face when Emily comes home from work. But their effects mean even if I was shagging a guy as obsessively as I'm currently shagging Emily, I wouldn't have a chance in hell of conceiving.

But I've got a few of the classic symptoms. Like increased sex drive (check) morning sickness (well I throw up regularly after Emily leaves for work with that dazed expression on her face) and now apparently, obsessive house cleaning and furniture rearrangement. Emily's only been gone half an hour and I've already completely remodelled the apartment. The bedroom is now our lounge. Which means we've lost our balcony to the bedroom, but its a small price. It was only when Ems said something before she left this morning that I realised our neighbours would be getting a ringside seat, at least audibly, to my frequent attempts to shag my girlfriend into oblivion. I suppose I could have just moved the bed around, but once she said it, I knew I had to change things dramatically. Its bad enough I know who lives next door now, without a doubt (I watched one James Cook leave last night, probably headed for the takeaway), but knowing too that he's still shacked up with Naomi fucking Campbell is wrecking the drugs effect on my well being.

Not just rotten luck... Fate is giggling maniacally while rogering me from behind with an oversized baseball bat. The two people I thought we would never see again.

Here. Now.

If it had just been Cook, my off on shag from Roundview, I could have coped. Emily doesn't see him as a direct threat...hasn't for years. My days of inhaling his oversized todger are well over. No...but the introduction of Naomi Campbell after all this time is a malicious, ticking bomb.

See, I know more about what goes on in Emily's mind than I do about my own fucked up cerebellum. She puts on a good performance as the dutiful lover. Not that I think she cheats or plays away. But even though its been years, I know she still carries a flame for the blonde who occupied all her waking thoughts at 6th form college.

How do I know?

Well, I know more than most people about the subconscious. Obvious really, seeing as how I'm mental myself. Emily gives herself away sometimes...not often...but sometimes.

Like in her sleep...or if I get her so worked up, she forgets, in the throes of a spectacular orgasm, who is delivering that ecstatic state. In the beginning, I used to pull her up about moaning 'someone' else's name when I was the one working my skinny arse off to make her come. Cue a red face and much self loathing from my beautiful pocket rocket. Nowadays, it happens rarely...usually when she's well drunk and I'm up to my eyeballs in pharmaceuticals. Just now and again, the name _Naomi_ slips out.

And in her sleep? A lot more than I'm comfortable with actually. Just slurred words and broken sentences. But its still there. That hold Campbell had over her...its just well hidden.

But now? With her living next door? I'm fucking doomed and I know it. And it scares me witless.

I finished rearranging the apartment at noon and finally sat down with a glass of cranberry juice and a fag (my sole remaining illicit pleasure) on the balcony seat, overlooking the busy streets of London. Luckily...and _that_ substance has been in short supply lately...our balcony, whichever room it serves, is on the other side of the building from...you know who. The apartments might be next to each other, but they are arranged so that our windows face west and next doors face south. They get the view of the river, we get the busy Commercial Road, but at least there's no danger of coming out here to find bloody Campbell lounging on a recliner next to me.

But its a problem shelved, not solved. What the fuck am I going to do?

XXX

Naomi

I've got a day off today, which is good and bad. Good because I'm knackered with all this over thinking. A day at home, relaxing with a few coffees and a good book is just what I need. Bad because no matter how hard I try to get into ' _Girl on a Train_ ' my mind keeps nagging at me about what Cook said. Lesbians...next door...fucking up storm nightly. It shouldn't bother me quite so much, should it?

Apart from this Emma girl, I thought I'd been quite successful at keeping my thoughts at bay. Cook got his weekly ration and the rest of the week I buried myself in work and tried not to dwell on anything else. Anything girl shaped.

But now, with time to daydream, it was impossible to settle. After half an hour of re reading the same page, I huffed and threw the book into the corner. It's no good, I thought. I have to DO something.

Which is why I was standing outside the door of 24, with my hand poised to knock. It can't hurt can it...? Introducing myself to the 'fit' neighbours?

Well, I knocked...several times actually. But no sound or response from inside. Part of me was relieved. Obviously both at work. Well, I can say I tried.

Quite why I went back into my place, wrote out a polite invitation to drinks at ours on Friday night and put it inside their post box downstairs on my way to the park, I can't explain.

It's harmless...well, isn't it?

 **OK, last chapter for this week. Hope you enjoy the slow build up. Everything about the story is intended to be slow actually, so I hope you like this style, otherwise I'm screwed! Hahaha**

 **Comments would be nice!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Onwards then. I thought I might pep this chapter up as not so many people are reading or commenting nowadays. Maybe a bit of Naomily goodness will set the keyboards tapping!**

 **Fingers crossed.**

 **Although as always, all is not quite what it seems at first glance?**

Emily

"Go on then...show me?" I folded my arms for emphasis. I might still be stupidly in love with her, but I've been here before with little _Miss Will I Won't I_?...time for her to show me she means it. Words are cheap and disposable.

Her face showed her confusion...a mixture of shock and apprehension on those pretty features. Good, that's what I wanted to see.

" _Show_ me...show me how much you want me?" I said flatly "We've both got a huge amount to lose if this goes wrong. I'm not that shy little girl you knew at Roundview. I have a relationship now...unlike your sham one...so I actually have something solid, something real to lose. _You_ just have your pride and the dubious pleasure of bouncing up and down on Cook's dick every Saturday night...or is it more often than you admit to Naomi?"

Now the confused look on her face was replaced with shame and defeat. That look I'd last seen on her face in the girls toilet at 6th form college when I told her straight out that I was with someone else now and didn't want her any more. It wasn't true then and it isn't tonight, but thats for me to know, not her. I still get a stab of guilt when I think about how broken she was then...now I felt it again, only sharper. But these days she isn't a vulnerable, unsure 17 year old girl any more and nor am I. But she still has to prove something to me. Right here, right now. Otherwise this...fucked up whatever it is... _this_ wasn't going any further. I'd convinced myself of that much at least. We both do have a lot to lose, even if her relationship with Cook is based on security rather than passion.

"What do you want me to do Emily...I've told you I still love you...still want you...what is it you want from me?"

Her eyes...those big blue hypnotic eyes...were shining with unshed tears. I had to physically restrain myself from taking her in my arms and whispering in that pretty ear that everything would be alright. But that would mean going back to that shy little red head who bounced back every time the ice cool Naomi Campbell turned her back on love and broke my heart all over again. No...I knew she was confused, worried and upset. But I needed something from her. Something real and concrete. I steeled myself to shock her.

Moving closer I brushed some loose hair from her eyes. She shuddered as my fingers touched her warm skin. An answering shudder inside me was repressed. I needed to be strong now...otherwise...

"Seduce me" I said huskily. My normal voice is a bit throaty, but the tension of the moment was working havoc with my vocal chords. I sounded like a 40 a day girl.

"W'...what?" she choked, holding a hand to her throat as if I was about to attack her. Fat chance...this was her turn to reach out...to actually _try_.

I said it again, this time softening my gaze.

"I said seduce me Naomi...make me feel like this is all worth it. Worth the heartache its going to mean for both of us. Effy loves me... and Cook is in love with you...even if I know you're not in love with him?"

She opened her mouth to argue, but I already knew what she was going to say.

"I said he's in love with you. But before you tell me you love him too? Well, I think maybe that's true enough. But you're not _in_ love with him Naomi...are you?"

Again her mouth opened to argue with me...but it closed again with a snap as her hand continued to guard her throat. Instead she slowly shook her head.

"No" she breathed "It's only ever been you... it's always you Emily"

I forced down the surge of pleasure that rolled through my body at that admission with difficulty. No time for weakness Emily. Strike now.

"So prove it to me...seduce me Naomi...make me believe that after tonight, this won't all disappear like it used to?"

Again that look of indecision. I sighed wearily. Still not sure then.

"OK...well then...lets just call it quits and pretend we're just polite neighbours huh? I'll tone down the nightly histrionics and you can go back to giving Cook blow jobs while pretending to actually enjoy it?" My voice betrayed my disappointment.

I started to turn away. My heart was thumping like a drum and although my mind was screaming at me to stay, I was leaving anyway. I couldn't go through that all over again. Hot and cold, loving, then indifferent. Nope..rather the slightly one sided, obsessive relationship with Elizabeth Stonem than a half life with the person I've always loved.

" _NO_!" Naomi said sharply, grabbing at my sleeve and pulling me back to face her "No Emily...I can't go back to that. You know me better than I know myself. I want you...always have. Please?"

Again, I wanted to put my arms around her and hold her forever, but she needed to give me more than words. I arched my eyebrow and waited for her next move.

She bit her bottom lip in the way she always did when she was deciding what to do. And like it always did, my centre clenched at the sight. So unknowingly sexy. Suddenly I was back at the lakeside, watching her fight inner demons, then reach for me. She surrendered completely that night...stripped her clothes and her outer shell of hetero certainty. She might not have returned my bold caresses as eagerly after I'd made her moan in ecstasy, but she did try her best to make me happy. But tonight I needed more. Much more.

"So seduce me" I said again, determined to press my point. This wasn't purely physical. I needed more than mute surrender.

I could see by her darting eyes that she was panicking. Seducing me wasn't on her radar at all. She was used to being the seduced, the pursued. But gradually her expression changed. I saw new determination in those cobalt eyes. Maybe this thing could happen, I let myself believe.

"OK" she breathed "...you need me to show you how much I want you?"

I nodded quickly, my own breathing starting to speed up. Jesus...maybe she would after all...

With a shy smile she pulled me closer to the bed, until I was standing between her knees as she dropped onto the duvet. She smiled again and took a deep breath before speaking.

"This..." she said slowly "...is how much I want you. I think about you...have always thought about you...every night. Every time I start to feel hot...its you I imagine making love to me"

With that, she slowly slipped the first button of her cream and lilac top open. My breath caught in my throat as the first inch of creamy skin was revealed. Then another as the second button popped. On and on she went, down the pretty top...each button revealing more of her body. The complimentary lilac bra with lace across the cups, the pale swell of her breasts, moving up and down as she breathed more heavily. Finally, still looking at me with curious eyes, she slipped the material off her shoulders. I gasped then. Naomi might be older, but everything about her was still as perfect as I remembered from that passionate night by the lake.

"I do this sometimes" she said, "...in front of a mirror, you know...when I'm alone?...So that I can imagine its you watching me take my clothes off. Taking them off _for_ you. The way I should have done. Over and over again, instead of settling for second best. But I was too scared then. I'm not now. This is what I want. _You_ are what I want"

As she breathed the last word, she reached behind her and unclipped that sexy bra. Her breasts dropped free of the gossamer material and I gasped out loud at the sight of those beautiful pink tipped globes revealed to me. The heat between my legs flared and I had to bite my own lip to stop myself surging forward and taking her there and then. But I knew I mustn't. She was showing me more than just her body. This was Naomi showing me everything. Heart and soul.

She cupped her own breasts and lazily thumbed the already erect nipples. This time she gasped.

"I do this too...imagining its your hands, your lips exciting me. Like you did by that lake when we were just stupid kids...taking control...taking me"

Her fingers pinched the small nipples harder and her mouth opened wide as the sensations rippled through her. It was hypnotic to watch.

Her hands went down to the side zip of her skirt and in one move it was open. She stood then, startling me with the sudden movement. I swayed backwards. This was her show and I wanted it to play out in her time. She was being brave, so I let her.

The thin skirt whispered to the floor, lying in a puddle round her ankles. I noticed a small blue tattoo on her left calf. I made a mental note to look at it properly...later. But for now, I waited to see what she was going to do next.

What she did was to hook her fingers into the waist of the matching lilac knickers and slip them down her legs and off. She kicked the skirt and underwear aside and stood gazing at me for a moment, watching my reaction. I knew my eyes would be black with want. She still looked stunning. Tall, slim and with perfect proportions, to my eyes anyway. The small triangle of neatly trimmed brown hair between her legs drew my eyes like a magnet. The place I had worshipped for long minutes one cold evening while the waters of the lake sighed and rippled beside us, a natural symphony to accompany our personal crescendo. The place I had enjoyed and relished deliriously while she moaned and writhed under me. Nirvana.

She sat again, taking the weight of her body on her elbows as I stared at her in wonder. Naomi Campbell, naked and totally open to me.

"And I do this..." she said quietly "...this quite a lot actually...when I think about you and how much I want you...want to make love with you"

She lifted her right hand and slowly sucked her middle finger between pink lips. I could see her tongue working around the digit inside her pretty mouth. My legs twitched and I had to breathe in sharply, realising I had been holding my breath since those cute knickers slid off her legs.

Then she took the glistening finger from her mouth and moved it to where I knew it would want to go. Her thighs parted wantonly and she started to tease herself as I watched with growing excitement. This was definitely _not_ how I remembered Naomi Campbell of old. This final act of bravery...letting me see her touch herself...would have been utterly inconceivable at college. Maybe things had changed after all?

" _This_..." she said softly "...is what I do to myself when I think of us in bed together...I get so hot...I have make myself come over and over again... thinking about your eyes...your lips...your breasts...your wet..."

I didn't need any more encouragement. My clothes suddenly felt two sizes too small. One of us was totally overdressed. I struggled to take off my jeans, tee and underwear as she continued to stroke herself, watching each item of my clothing fall to the floor.

I started to climb onto her body, ready to possess her again, but she stopped me with a single gentle touch. Her other hand was still...occupied...stroking in small precise circles. The room echoed to the sound of our joint ragged breathing.

Nothing else disturbed the silence.

"No Emily...I want you to, you know...more than I can say. But its my turn, like you said. My turn to show you how much I want you?

With surprising strength, she moved me over her, until I was lying bedside her, our naked skin touching all down one side. She propped herself up on one elbow and kissed me slowly. It was like coming home. Her lips still tasted vaguely of some sort of spirit, but it was intoxicating without needing the sting of alcohol. I gasped into her mouth as one cool hand cupped my breast. This time it was my nipple that ached as she stroked and pinched it. No more nervous beginner, I could understand at last that she obviously hadn't wasted all the years since we'd seen each other. Her touch was newly sure and skilful. Again I gasped as her knee parted my thighs and a hand began to slip lower, stroking and teasing my skin with gentle nails. My legs opened for her...but then they always did.

Finally, after caressing my belly and thighs until I whined with frustration, I felt that clever finger part me down there and begin to arouse me even more...the way she had been arousing herself minutes earlier. I groaned as she used her tongue to search out mine, swirling in my mouth and making me shiver with desire.

Her knee pressed harder and I let my legs fall even further apart, allowing other fingers to join the action. She slowly released my mouth, then kissed that spot on my neck I thought only Effy knew about. The place below my ear which always drives me crazy. I gasped again.

"My turn to please you Emily" she said again, making me shudder as her fingers got more direct. Two slipped inside me and her thumb began to do its little dance on my clit. My hips shook as I tried to force her deeper inside me. But as I felt my orgasm approaching, her hand left my wet heat, making me cry out in disappointment.

"No...don't stop babe..I was ...I was nearly..." I whined.

"Don't worry beautiful, she breathed quietly, her eyes holding mine. "I told you I want you...and now is the time I show you I do totally"

My brow crinkled in puzzlement as she carried on staring at me. What the fuck...I was seconds away from exploding then...what did she mean?

I soon found out. Her eyes blazed blue fire as she smirked at me. Then her pink tongue parted those soft lips and she waggled it at me suggestively.

"Oh Jesus H fucking Christ _YES!"_ I moaned, throwing my head back. Crude the gesture might be, but right then I would happily settle for crude. Right then I _needed_ that lewd tongue.

She didn't disappoint. Even though she teased me some more for a few seconds, with small nips and bites on the way down my body, her destination was clear. I had a moment to say to myself " _Naomi fucking Campbell is going down on me_ " before she was right there, her breath fast on my heated centre and her fingers going back to the job they did best...opening me up for her tongue.

When her lips finally closed over me, and she hummed in satisfaction, I screamed. Like really screamed. It was exquisite. No fumbling to find the right spot, the right rhythm. It was wonderful from the second she touched me. I arched up to meet her hungry mouth and she hummed again as her tongue, lips and fingers probed, circled and lapped.

I remember saying "please" a lot. What for I don't really know. It's not as if she wasn't already doing _exactly_ what I needed, was it? For a supposed straight girl, she gave me the best oral I ever remember getting. Just before the end, clutching at her hair almost brutally and grinding myself against her relentless mouth, I called out her name, over and over. The climax was shattering. Again and again I clenched and spasmed as waves of pure pleasure cascaded over me.

Her tongue guided me tenderly through the aftershocks, lapping gently around my clit, then her lips dropping tiny kisses on my stomach. It took long seconds for me to be able to frame a word, let alone a sentence.

I eventually pushed myself up on my elbows and looked groggily round the room. My bedroom, with the first thin slivers of dawn illuminating the grey darkness.

Gradually, reality crept into my sexually sated daze.

I felt her face against my side and wondered for a second why it was so wet there. Then I heard a small, strangled sob. My heart dropped like a stone. Surely no regrets...not _now_?

Then she spoke, still with her head buried against my body.

"Well...at least I can say we went out with a bang Em?"

My heart thumped again.

 _Effy_?

Reality kicked in big time then. It was all a fucking _dream_. A lurid, spectacularly realistic one, but a dream nevertheless. A dream in which I wasn't fucking my loyal girlfriend, but a woman I hadn't seen for years. A woman who still haunts my subconscious. A woman who I've now betrayed Effy with. In spirit if not in the flesh. A woman who's name I called out repeatedly while my loyal girlfriend woke me with her usual clever and persistent tongue. Oh Jesus..this is going to be _bad_.

XXX

Naomi

I bit my fingernails all fucking day after I put that stupid invitation in the new neighbours post box. _And_ the next day. Why, I don't know. If they were like us, out at work all day, we weren't gonna get a reply until the evening, even if they did reply. But something told me this was the start of something big. Something momentous.

The first night passed without any answer, But my anxiety level didn't reduce one bit. Maybe they were late in.

Which is all kinds of ridiculous, don't you think? Even if Cook's intel is correct and they _are_ 'two fit lesbians' They're hardly gonna be interested in me, are they? And even if one of them was...what would be the point...it's not as if I'm going to agree to a fucking orgy on the back of a drinks invitation, even if they were game for it. Which they won't be.

No...it was a stupid thing to do and even though I knew Cook would be howling like a demented wolf at the thought of having three girls in his flat who enjoyed a bit of pussy, I was still cursing myself for giving in (BTW, I haven't told him yet!).

Obviously, my brain sneered at me, it's not even about Cook, is it Naomi? It's about those long submerged urges which burst out the other night. Shagging Emma was hands down the best sexual experience I'd had since...well, since.

Cook had freed the beast and now it threatened to devour us. Without labouring too many more metaphors, the dykey little genie was well out of the box, and she was straight up refusing to go back.

"You're _gay_ Naomi" the sly mental nymph whispered to me during the days relentlessly "...you're gay and just looking for an excuse to repeat the experience. That gorgeous redhead from college might have woken you from your self imposed teenage celibacy, but Emma definitely added a dash of pure adrenalin to those sneaky desires"

Which is all well and good and made for a very distracted Naomi at work the past two days. But now I'm coming through the doors to our place. And pinned to the board next to my postbox, is a hand written note.

" _Naomi_ " it says in neat, flowing ink.

I wanted to leave it until I got upstairs, but my hands were shaking so much, I wandered into the garden at the back of the block, trying to calm my nerves, I cursed the day I gave up full time smoking. This was one of those occasions where I really craved a nerve settling fag.

I was alone in the cool, sunlit square of grass they call a communal garden. Lucky for me. Because it was definitely a reply to my invitation.

I hadn't said much in my note. Just

" _Hi...we're your neighbours in No 22. If you fancy it, we normally have a few drinks at 7 on Wednesday. Introductions and all that. Let me know if you can come?"_

I didn't even put my name on it. Just signed it N and J. Which makes the fact that the answer was made to Naomi a little spooky. I know the card on our door just says _Campbell_ (mainly because Cook hates letting anyone know where he actually lives...being a low criminal and all that)

I scrabbled at the flap on the small envelope, part of me hoping that it would be a polite no. Then I wouldn't have to try again. Just tell Cook that the lezzers prefer their own company. That will shatter his dreams.

No such luck.

" _Hi Naomi_ " the note read "... _Yeah, its about time introductions were made. Should_ _prove interesting...for everyone_ " Signed _E_ and _E_

I stood there with it in my hand for a second. Cryptic or what? Fuck, I thought...now its actually _happening_. I almost ran upstairs to our place. Cook wouldn't be home until just before 7. I had less than an hour to have a shower, tip some nuts into a bowl and break out the duty frees I had hidden at the back of the wardrobe from the last time Cook and I had been to my mums in Cyprus.

It's definitely happening then...

 **OK guys, that's the last of the build up chapters. Next one is the big reveal. Crafty Effy playing mind games, even though she must be crapping herself , Emily all a tizzy with self recrimination about fantasy sex with Naomi. Naomi herself unaware that her own fantasies are about to be made flesh, just not in the way she imagined. And Cook?... oh dear! Poor Cook.**

 **Comments welcome...the more the merrier.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much for the comments and reviews on the last chapter. Nice to know a bit of Naomily smut still does the trick! Even if it turns out to be of the fantasy variety. Emily does love her little sex dreams!**

 **But the faeces is about to hit the oscillating blades. Expect collateral damage all round then. Bit unsure about this one...Effy is so hard to voice. But here goes anyway.**

Effy

I watched Emily getting changed with more than my usual air of detachment this morning. She's suffering from extreme guilt and unlike me, every bit shows on her pretty features. If I am the sphinx, Emily is the polar opposite. Whatever emotion is consuming her at any given moment is clear and visible to all. Must have been hell, growing up in a house dominated by the Medusa _and_ her semi psychotic twin sister. All that female dominance and eagle eyed oversight. Poor Ems never learned to cover her anxieties with a glacial exterior. Unlike me of course. But then I'm a Stonem...I learned from the master. Tony was the alpha male at school and college, then passed the baton to me. No one knew that inside that insouciant exterior , I was a cringing, doubt ridden fool. I was just _very_ good at hiding it.

Only Pandora and maybe my mother know the truth about my insecurities. Occasionally I let it slip when I was younger, that carefully crafted mask of indifference. But right now...here? It's a bit like the comedy mask worn by Jim Carrey in that weird film from years back. When the mask is secure, I'm a hurricane, a tornado...unstoppable, omnipotent... _smoking_ in fact But it's becoming harder and harder to keep it fixed over my trembling face. It keeps falling off to reveal the utter coward underneath.

This morning was dreadful. I knew keeping Emily in a permanent orgasmic state was impossible long term, but it worked for almost a week. She was pleased at first. Lately, the meds have been taking the edge off my libido and she was noticing my lack of interest in her. So I deliberately and relentlessly set out to fuck her into a state of permanent bliss.

Now I _know_ thats not gonna last, but its my only weapon. My interest in her has always been a bit equivocal if I'm honest with myself (a rarity). At Roundview, when I snared her for the first time, half of me was just doing it to prove I could seduce a girl. Never been with a female up to then... _lots_ of boys and men...but apart from an couple of exploratory fumbles with a bemused Pandora when our bodies were changing during puberty, nothing serious with a girl. But when Campbell disappeared to the European continent, running scared of her addiction to the pretty twin, it was all too easy to step in and take over. Emily was emotionally wounded and deeply vulnerable to seduction.

Our little Emily turned out to be quite a tiger in the sack as it happened. Despite my initial instincts to just fuck her out of curiosity then go back to cock, I found myself seeking her out more and more. It wasn't love. Nothing like the sort of incandescent glow which surrounded her and Naomi Campbell when they were in the same room. More a happy orgasmic bubble that I could hide us both in.

For several weeks during that long hot summer when the blonde was away, we shared a bed at my place most nights. Clubbing, partying and general fuckery was put on hold as she learned what I liked done to me in bed and practised diligently. She might have only go at A level, but she was an A star student at sex. That stupid bitch Campbell, with her on/off attraction to my little brunette, missed out big time. By the time she finally showed up on the first day of our final year, all tanned and eager to reclaim her love, I had already snatched Emily from her. I might have been second prize for the first few weeks after she left, but I'm a quick learner too. I like sex...its something I'm good at and can lose myself in. So I practised too. By the time that peroxide head appeared at the bottom of the steps of college, I had full possession of Emily Fitch. I'd seen off her mother Jenna verbally, then used my fists to deter her violent twin sister from coming between us. There was never a possibility that the hesitant blonde could stop me. After the scary twin, Naomi was just roll over opposition.

And Emily worshipped me for it, as well as my sexual skills. As teenagers, that was enough. Plenty.

Naomi retired mortally hurt and I carried on weaving my spells round the prettier twin. Then the blonde allowed Cook into her knickers after a whole year of him trying in vain and the palace coup was complete. Emily was never going to let herself be second best to James Cook of all people. She made a good fist of appearing to hate Campbell for the rest of the year. I knew it was a sham of course. Emily could fool Naomi, but not me. I knew that hopeful torch was still burning inside her. But it was flickering and dull. All the time I could distract my girl with sex and drugs, I could keep her.

Keeping her _this_ long though, is as surprising to me as it probably is to her. There were (many) bumps in the road. Uni was hard, even though we went to Bath together. At least I knew with Naomi up at Goldsmiths, I had Emily all to myself. She never even looked at another girl for that three years. I wish I could say the same about me. I fell off the wagon several times...always with guys though. Never could resist a bad boy. But she always forgave me...picked up the pieces when I came home wrecked and bruised, usually minus my knickers. Bathed me, cuddled me and held me tight as I sobbed out yet another lame apology.

Heart as big as a London bus, my Emily.

Other issues of course, occurred too. Drugs mostly, or sometimes the lack of them when I went AWOL from my prescription friends. But again, Emily stood by me when others would have thrown up their hands and given up.

So we're still together. Just.

Except I have a secret. One that is way bigger than a lost weekend with a bad boy. Bigger than a relapse into the arms of Mr Ketamine. _This_ secret could actually blow us apart. This morning's fuckery proved that.

Making love to Emily while she sleeps is my favourite pastime. Because she could sleep through a direct nuclear attack, its easy to raise her excitement level to critical without properly waking her. I've refined my technique until I can have her open legged and naked, trembling violently and just about to orgasm, before her eyes open and she realises its not a vivid sex dream, but reality. She just has time to clutch at my head and moan my name before she convulses and comes for me. (Watching Emily come is my second favourite pastime)

Well, I suppose that part of my ongoing plan, i.e to distraction shag her 24/7 worked. Up until the point when her hands gripped my hair and she cried out in delight.

But it wasn't my name she called out. It was Naomi's.

Now she's slipped up before. Quite a few times when we first got together. But her remorse and sorrow was believable then. It was still raw in those early days, her split with Campbell. But for the past year or so, its not happened at all. I began to think I'd finally exorcised the demon.

But this morning proved I was as wrong as you can get. And there's an even bigger problem looming. Not only is Emily still longing for the blonde, however subconsciously, but her fantasy is about to become stark reality.

Because Naomi Campbell and James Cook are our neighbours. My nemesis is within touching distance. Literally.

Fishing that half arsed invitation out of the post box today was final confirmation that I can't go on using sex to keep Emily from the truth. It's time to face the demons head on.

But if I'm going to do that. It's going to be on _my_ terms. I have surprise on my side. None of the other players in this little one act tragedy know what I do.

So I'm going to direct the production myself. Introduce the players in one huge reveal and watch the chaos at first hand. It appeals to my nihilist instincts. Throw the gladiators into the circus and see who emerges bloodied but unbowed. High risk? Hell _yeah_. No one ever said I was a wimp?

XXX

Naomi

I winced as Cook did his patented Wolverine impression when I announced I have given in and...put an invitation to drinks into my neighbours post box.

"Fucking _A_ blondie!..." he yelled at a volume high enough to alert them to my news. Fucker.

"... _three_ fit women in a small space containing beds?...All of them up for some lezzer action. My fucking foursome fantasy is on then, babe?"

I tried the basilisk stare, but I've used it so much lately, its losing its effect. Instead I used my less seldom employed not so secret weapon. I reached down to his jean covered crotch and squeezed his crown jewels really, _really_ hard. His delighted yell morphed into an agonised screech. Cook jumped back, but not in time to stop me grinding down on his nuts hard again.

"Fuck... _fuck_ " he moaned (not in ecstasy) "...Jesus babe... was that really necessary? Cookie was just joking you. I think you fucking broke my balls Naomikins?"

I couldn't stop the sly smile that crept over my face at that. If only.

"Frankly Cook, if that was the last time I ever have to grab your over active gonads, I'd be a happy girl. But take that as a warning. If you let _one_ word about group sex, lesbian or otherwise, escape that sewer you call a mouth when our neighbours call round, I'll wait till you're asleep one night and finish the job with that big shiny cheese grater in the kitchen drawer... _comprende_?"

He winced again, and not I think just because of my powerful squeeze. I'd threatened him with that kitchen implement once before, over something nasty he'd done, and he's never quite known whether to believe I actually would. (Probably not...arterial blood is a bitch to get out of white sheets). But its nice to think he worries I _might_ be crazy enough...

He held the hand up that wasn't cupping his balls gingerly and hopped about a bit more.

"OK, OK...message fucking understood babe...no lesbian jokes or suggestions about swapping partners...I get it"

I smiled in disbelief at his rapid surrender. I knew him well enough by now to understand that I would have to remind him, probably several times, during the endurance test known as 'meet the neighbours'. Part of my unease, of course, was due to the undeniable fact that I was as intrigued as he was about their identity. Me and Cook aren't entirely unsociable, but compared to us, the couple next door are positively hermit like. Although not many hermits indulge in as much rampant sex as they evidently do. I feel slightly envious that at least one of them is getting my share of orgasms in addition to her own. The other one is obviously the quiet one. I've never heard her let go. But whatever she's doing to her partner, its certainly working. Maybe, if we end up as best buddies, she can pass me some tips?

Second thoughts, strike that. I think I did OK the other night with that Emma girl. Cook is off to Manchester at the weekend for 4 days. Something about a supply run. I don't want to know the details. It almost certainly involves kilos of white powder and a high speed motorway drive. Fuck that for a game of soldiers...I value my freedom, even if it does involve submitting to Cook's dick once a week. I've already made it crystal clear that none of his 'merchandise' _ever_ crosses the doorstep here. Its bad enough that at some point, his collar will be felt by the Met drug squad (law of averages) and this place will get properly turned over by the Feds. So I make absolutely sure that any drug taking and/or storage is strictly _off_ the premises.

Anyway...while the cats away and all that. I have no intention (even if 'they' wanted to) of indulging in any of Cooks three way fantasies. But that phone number is still in my knicker drawer. It couldn't hurt to have Emma round for a sly drink and well...have her, could it? (Don't answer that)

XXX

Emily

Well...this is interesting, I thought nervously as we stood outside the door of our soon to be next door buddies. For once, Effy has made a real effort in the make up stakes. She still goes for the heroin chic look, even though that particular substance is a dim and largely forgotten memory. I'd say it suits her, but then pretty much anything does, including dispensing with clothing altogether. Which she does a lot, specially lately. But I suppressed that happy thought, remembering instantly how I disgraced myself the other morning when she was waking me up in her own special way. Calling out Naomi's name at the critical moment was a major faux pas, I know that. But it was such a vivid dream, my brain wasn't able to separate fact from fiction. Luckily it seems Effy has dealt with it in her normal nonchalant way, writing it off as a bit of a joke. Wish I could.

But I think there's a lot more going on inside her pretty head than just me forgetting my manners. Dressing up for this so called casual drinks party is just one bit of evidence. That short filmy dress is normally reserved for seduction...with me the target. And the bra, or rather lack of it just reinforces my suspicion that she's up to something. I can't quite understand why she's bothering to pull out all the stops. It's not as if I'm hard to arouse, is it...and I can't believe the glam look is for our neighbours benefit. A straight couple? We've never gone in for group sex, even when we were kids. I don't like to share and the very idea of an erection playing any part in a fantasy get together is really _not_ my cup of tea. The guy who clumsily took my virginity when I was 15 was quite bad enough and then the non event known as a shag with JJ was my only other foray into hetero land. Quite enough to convince me that I prefer boobs to balls. Yuk.

Anyway, here we are.

I'm standing at the door, waiting for Effy to knock. Unlike her, I'm dressed a little less seductively. Just my new black skinnies and a cream top with a grey button down collar. My Fitch-dyke look, as Effy wryly observed when I came out of the bedroom tonight. Bitch.

"So what" I said irritably (not wanting to go to play happy neighbours in the first place) "Its just a civic duty thing, yeah?...no need for me to dress for effect...you're doing that _all_ on your own...for some strange, unaccountable reason?"

I just got an enigmatic smirk in reply. Living with Effy is knowing that you will _always_ be out of the loop. Its just the way she is...all seeing and annoyingly right most of the time. So her behaving like she knows something I don't isn't exactly unusual.

Business very much as usual in fact.

Effy reached for the bell beside the grey door and pressed firmly.

I took a deep breath and fixed a polite smile on my face. Show time...

XXX

"Cook..." I yelled semi quietly as I heard the chimes of our doorbell "...get the door will you...they're fucking _early_?"

I was struggling with the hair straighteners as per fucking usual. My hair had been re dyed just this week, but for some reason it now wants to curl more than I want at the ends. Its not that I'm looking to impress the two girlies, as Cook insists on calling them, but I like to look my best for visitors. The fact that they are allegedly lesbians has nothing to do with it...right? I might be planning on chancing my arm with the fragrant Emma if Cook keeps to his plan to fuck off for four days, but anything else is off the chart. Specially with my live in 'boyfriend' in the vicinity. One sniff of Campbell interest in the female neighbours and I'll never hear the end of it. Cook goes off into one of his sewer like Dante fantasies and I'll be fighting him off for a month. Nope, just polite conversation...some canapés (Cook still think thats French for can of peas) and cocktails. I made a bit of an effort and bought some vanilla vodka and a variety of fruit juices...just so they know we're not both utter philistines.

Cook of course, is too busy swimming in a bath of aftershave in our shower room to hear me, so I tutted pointlessly to myself, gave a last squeeze to the straighteners and stiffened my back. Deep breath, polite smile and no lusting Naomi...none at all...right?

The door swung open and I opened my mouth to say hello.

And promptly froze.

As did the person looking straight at me.

"E... _Emily_?" I croaked

" _Naomi_?" she answered hoarsely...looking every bit as stunned as I felt. Over her shoulder I could see another face I recognised instantly. The big blue eyes, permanent smirk and slouch was unmistakeable. Effy fucking Stonem.

I swear time stopped. As did my breathing. My eyes flicked from Emily's deep brown ones to Effy's sea blue. Just for a millisecond I saw something else in those intense Stonem eyes. Doubt? Concern?

But then it was gone and she pushed past a still immobile Emily.

"Right...well, I think everyone's already been introduced Naomi?...Apart from Cook of course. He'll be wherever the drinks are...through there?"

I just swallowed and nodded, still looking intensely at Emily.

Fuck...still so incredibly beautiful, I thought as we carried on staring stupidly at each other. So fucking _beautiful_...

XXX

 **And that's it guys. Mainly because _this_ little soiree requires a whole chapter to itself? Don't you think?**

 **Answers on a postcard...or even via reviews?**

 **Thank you so much.**


	6. Chapter 6

**OK, thanks for reading the last chapter. I think I've teased you enough. Now the sh*t really does hit the fan. For real.**

Naomi

You know those times when you laugh in embarrassment and say to your mates that yesterday evening went by in a complete blur? Like when you get so hammered or stoned that the most toe curling things you got up to disappear into a grey mist and you wake up with just a vague memory of events? You know, when you've been belting out off tune Karaoke on stage in front of strangers, or maybe dancing on the table, knocking drinks onto the floor...or maybe tell your best (straight) friend that you've always loved her tits and perhaps she might let you have a crafty squeeze (whoops, that just slipped out). Or even that you got so wasted that you drunk shagged some random and woke up with a foul taste in your mouth and an alien naked body next to yours in the cold light of morning?

 _That_ sort of blur?

Bad enough you might snigger at all that (and I've done _all_ of those things, I'm ashamed to say). But the bliss which comes with a hazy recollection of your drunken exploits at least softens the blow a little?

Which this morning is _not_ how I feel about last night. Pissed I definitely wasn't. Mainly because I didn't dare risk the lack of inhibition which alcohol bestows on me. Because the evening was so exquisitely awkward already that I barely touched the drinks Cook kept putting in front of me. I was mesmerised by two sets of eyes. One blue pair which seemed to see right into my soul and understand instinctively the dark secrets I kept in there. The other softer, brown ones, pleaded with me silently all night to just keep my distance and say and do nothing of any consequence.

Which I did. Just.

When Effy brushed past me as I answered the door, walking confidently into the lounge, Emily and I carried on staring at each other for another 10 seconds. Ten seconds that felt like 24 hours. The word _beautiful_ kept repeating in my head, even as I tried to force that plastic smile back onto my frozen features. An expression that she was obviously trying just as unsuccessfully to emulate.

I dimly heard the shock in Cooks voice as he recognised our visitor, but for the life of me, I couldn't say under torture what he said to her. It was just a low drone in the background as I carried on locking eyes with my first love. (Jesus, did I just actually say that?)

Finally, Emily regained some vocal ability and broke our staring contest.

"I...err...well _wow_..." she said quietly "so...we're next door neighbours then, Naoms?"

Her face flushed as we both acknowledged the casual nickname had slipped out and she immediately did little that head duck and look up again move she unnerved me with all through sixth form. Guess what?...It still works. My own cheeks flushed and I found myself biting my bottom lip like a giddy schoolgirl. The past few years seemed to disappear.

"Uh, umm...yeah I guess.." I said stupidly "...who'd a thought it...after all this time Em?"

There followed another 5 seconds of intense eye fucking. It was terrifying that her presence alone was making the heat in my...well you know...flare uncontrollably. She has this _power_...Emily Fitch. You think you have control of any given situation until you suddenly realise that you absolutely do not. A bit like her kisses...soft and hesitant at first, until you find yourself moaning and responding like a bitch on heat... _whoa_... _fuck!_ Where did _that_ come from, I thought frantically? She's hardly inside the door and I've gone from a polite hello to a recall of our most...intimate...moments already.

I physically forced myself to turn away, otherwise I would still be standing there this morning. I coughed into my hand, trying to buy time, then walked shakily towards the other players in this fucked up play, calling over my shoulder as I did.

"The lounge is this way Emily...it sounds like Cook and Effy are already getting reacquainted?

The inanity of that remark made me blush again, but luckily I was already removing myself from the vicinity of my own personal Kryptonite. Temporarily.

XXX

Emily

Jesus...fate is a bitch huh?

Our new neighbours are Cook and Naomi fucking Campbell? I felt like I had been hit with one of Katies roundhouse swings. And yet numb...but overwhelmingly, treacherously _excited_. Like it was Christmas morning and I was 8 years old all over again.

Which is so wrong I can't even begin to...

Effy was slouching idly against the lounge door with a full glass of something alcoholic in her hand, chatting to Cook as if this was an every day event, bumping into the two people who knew our minds and bodies as well as we did each others. How she does that is totally beyond me. I know she's not actually as confident as her image projects, but fuck, she's extremely good at hiding her insecurities.

I gave a nervous smile to the room as I walked in behind Naomi and got a similar response from our neighbours. Cook was still wide eyed with shock at finding out we were the new kids on the block, but as always he was pretty good at brazening it out too. Both him and Effy have it down pat it seems.

" **Emilio** man!" he yelled as I stood there with the obligatory bottle of posh wine in my useless hand. "...fucking good to see ya babe. Effy was just telling me you've got a posh new job in town. Fucking _ace_ , red"

Just as his over reliance on the word fuck as a form of punctuation was eerily familiar, Cook was undeniably the same as he always was. A bit less lean, maybe a bit more care worn around the eyes, but pretty much the same James Cook as before. He slung a proprietary arm over Naomi as she moved to stand beside him and I _almost_ managed to suppress the automatic stiffening of my face as he claimed his girl.

Almost.

I never could cover my emotions and seeing him with that ' _look at me...I finally got_ _the Campbell girl_ ' expression on his face was a sure winner in the Heart on the Sleeve E Fitch Stakes. I hated seeing them together at Roundview, even though I was simultaneously torturing Naomi with over the top PDA's with Effy. I might be a bit older and a tiny bit wiser nowadays, but seeing them still as a couple made me clench...and not in a nice way. Knowing that he's fucking her on a regular basis...after all this time...still hurts like a bitch. Who'd have known they would last this long? The hypocrisy of that opinion only occurred to me when Effy slung her own arm over _my_ shoulder and smiled winningly at the happy couple.

"Well...look at us now..." she said smoothly "...all grown up and still together. You and Naomi, me and my sweet little Ems" she finished, kissing me lightly on the cheek for emphasis. I just had time to see the flash of what looked suspiciously like jealousy on Naomi's face before she smothered it with a small, tight laugh.

"Yeah...me and Cookie still a team, who'd a thunk it?" she drawled with an entirely fake smirk. It made me wince and burn at the same time. Visions of them going at it intruded on my artificial politeness. I wanted to grab her by the hand and run as fast as I could out of the room...fuck, out of the postcode. But Effy was holding my hand tightly too by now. I knew just what she was doing. Stamping her claim just as Cook was. Naomi and I were just collateral damage in their fucked up pissing up the wall game.

We got through the first bottle of red on pure adrenalin I think. Small talk was never my forte, and it definitely wasn't Naomi's either. Cook and Effy carried on running the show, swapping anecdotes about Roundview, uni and everything in between, filling in some of the blanks in the years we'd not seen each other. I found myself sipping more booze than I should have, taking every sly opportunity to look at Naomi. Which was a lot. Although I realised she was being a lot more discreet than I was, I still caught her return gaze more than once. Whether the longing in my eyes was obvious to her, I don't know, but it sure looked like it was reflected in those beautiful ice blue eyes opposite. Effy nudged me a couple of times during the endurance test. It was like I was watching the whole evening from outside, distant, detached. Even as I sipped more wine in an attempt to distract myself, the bomb which had been waiting to go off was triggered, inevitably by Cook.

He was well into a third bottle when he stretched his arms above his head, yawned for effect and interrupted one of Effy's 'amusing' university stories about me.

"I should have known really babe...that it was you guys next door?" he leered at Effy, winking at me at the same time in that way he's always had when he's about to get crude "...all that moaning and headboard banging night after night...you always did know how to make your shags scream the place down...right Eff?"

The room suddenly went completely silent. I saw the gleam of mischief in his eyes as he watched the shrapnel from his verbal hand grenade shatter the room.

" _Cook!_ " Naomi shouted with a face as white as a sheet "Fucks _sake_...is there no fucking off switch in your thick head?"

He grinned again, totally unrepentant and I remembered with dismay Gobblers End and his utter determination to ruin the party he wasn't invited to. I chanced a look sideways at Effy, who was still maintaining her cool, of course. She just swallowed another mouthful of wine and grinned back evilly.

"Straight to the elephant in the room as always James...never change, will you?..." she squeezed my knee as I sat there with my mouth open and my heart racing "...but yeah...me and Ems have always had a very... _active_ sex life...right babe?"

I started to say something. I don't actually know what. Something stupid and bland probably. Naomi was now looking intensely at me as I struggled for words, but Cook jumped in again.

"Good on ya Eff...Emilio here is still as fit as fuck, right Naomikins?...At least you always thought so, didn't you?" He jabbed Naomi as she sat next to him in shocked silence. I saw her wince as his elbow dug into her side, but she seemed as paralysed as me for a moment, just pursed her lips and glared at him some more. I think she was as stunned as I was.

Just to make the night complete, he finished his little bombshell with a final flourish.

"Nice to know _some_ people have an active sex life, huh Naomikins?...We're going through a bit of a dry spell, actually" he whispered conspiratorially as we listened in disbelief ..." Blondie here _still_ isn't sure if cock is the answer to all her problems, right babe?...so Cookie has to rely on madam palm and her five handmaidens for comfort?"

I gaped at that bald statement. Naomi and I swapped more intense looks as his comment echoed in the still lounge. I thought...well, I thought that whole sexual indecision stuff was over for her? Wasn't she still shacked up with the cocksman of Bristol, conqueror of half the knickers in the West Country ? Surely that adolescent yearning we both had for each other was in the past? (My mind laughed hysterically at that bit of self deception even as I constructed it).

Judging by her silence and the tense atmosphere around us, maybe not.

Naomi stood up abruptly, her face tight and pale with anger.

"Right...well, _thanks_ for that little bit of nasty gossip Cook. I'm sure Effy and Emily have been mightily entertained by your revelations about our _private_ life..." she glared down at his naughty boy expression, eyes glittering with fury "...you still know how to spoil a party, don't you, you absolute _cunt?_ "

Effy and I swapped looks this time as Naomi pushed herself away from his reaching hand.

" _Don't_ " she hissed icily to him "Sorry Eff...Em...I'm suddenly not feeling too good. I think I'll turn in for the night? Feel free to finish the booze...Cook here can be relied upon to help you with that...and any more insights you might want into our non existent sex life. Oh...and by the way Cookie...you're sleeping on the couch tonight and for the foreseeable future?. Your right hand will just have to do?"

Cook's fake good humour faded at that rejection. I saw the downbeat look on his face as Naomi nodded curtly to the room and walked into what I presume was their bedroom. The door closed quietly but firmly behind her, leaving us in more awkward silence.

Effy and I left more or less straight afterwards. Between them, her and Cook had done all the damage they set out to. Operation ' _Fuck with Naomi and Emily_ ' had been an unqualified success I'm guessing. They might not have actually concocted the nightmare beforehand, but as usual, the combination of her sly prompting and his caveman instincts had worked a treat. Next door neighbours we might be, but the fallout from this night would be grim and lasting. We weren't going to be swapping cups of sugar any time soon.

XXX

Naomi

I stood with my back to the door for a few minutes as the fading murmurs in the lounge indicated the departure of our 'guests' I was angry yeah...but mostly with myself. This was all self inflicted, wasn't it? The invitation for drinks was my idea, not Cooks. OK, we couldn't have gone on much longer pretending we weren't interested in the identity of occupants of No: 24, but having them here, in my place, was a red rag to Stonem and Cook. She obviously knew who lived next door and made damned sure me and Emily weren't in on the joke until the last moment. Just lit the blue touch paper and waited for the fireworks. Which Cook provided in spades.

He never could resist lesbian digs and more than once in the past 3 years I had put him on short rations when he pressed me for details of what Emily and I had (briefly) got up to alone in my room. No amount of flat refusals cooled his enthusiasm for all things Fitch. I don't think he ever got over being one of the few 'fit' guys at Roundview never to bag one. Katie never was one for being stingy with her favours, but even she drew the line at Cook and his over active todger. Too frightened to be added to the chlamydia club, I reckon. Add to that the fact that only me and JJ Jones had ever sampled Emily's undoubted charms up until she fell for Effy Stonem (and yes, the answer is that JJ's fun and games with my on off girlfriend _still_ burns like fuck. I can't stand hearing anything about JJ, even now, so Cook has stopped mentioning him).

All in all then, he was left disappointed at not getting into Katies knickers and never having a prayer of getting into Emilys.

So when the opportunity comes up to tease and torment us both, he just can't resist.

Which is why I was propping up the bedroom door, shaking with anger and humiliation, waiting until Effy and Emily left before ripping Cook a new arsehole.

XXX

Emily

"What the _fuck_ Eff?" I said in a barely controlled whisper as we walked back along the corridor to our apartment. "You knew...knew all along who lived there didn't you?"

To her credit, she didn't even try to deny it. As the door closed behind us and I carried on standing in front of her flushed with anger, she just shrugged in that intensely annoying way she has.

"So what Em...had to come out eventually. Just a bit more fun this way?"

Sometimes I think I know Effy...like really know her? And then she does something like this and I realise I really don't. There is a soft and loving side to our relationship, even if its been a bit one sided most of the time. But tonight just showed me that she still has that vivid cruel streak, inherited from her brother. A brother that I still dislike, even though he's in Canada now and sibling visits are rare. He's like Effy but without the occasional burst of compassion.

Again the shrug.

"Well anyway, thats that babe. We don't have to socialise with them any more" she said breezily. "...just the occasional nod in the corridor and a card at Christmas...right Em?"

My eyes widened as the true reality of her plotting became clear. For once..and for the first time in several years, I really let rip on my girlfriend.

" _No_! Elizabeth Stonem" I said flatly, using her full name to show her how pissed off I was. "No...its not OK. You've just conspired with fucking Cook of all people to humiliate me...and Naomi. You knew he would say something like that...Oh Jesus... I've just realised what all that day and night shagging was all about. You _wanted_ them to hear me getting off...fuck, I feel sick. This is all a game to you isn't it? Fucking me to make them think we have sex all the time. Making me believe you were still interested in me, when all along it was one of your fucked up games!"

I paused for breath, hoping for any sign of contrition, but Effy just sighed and waited for me to finish. She'd gone into that detached mode she uses when things get rough. But this time I wasn't backing off.

"Well if that was your plan Effy, it failed. You might have fooled me for a bit, fooled them too, but I'm not being used as some sort of cheap audio porn show to get at Naomi and Cook. You might have fucked up their sex life with your nasty games, but guess what? You've fucked up ours too. I feel totally sick inside. Sick that you used me to destroy their happiness. If you wanted to kill any chance of me and Naomi being friends again, you failed at that too. I'm gonna go back there tomorrow and apologise for both of us"

Her face changed from bored indifference to something else then. It wasn't quite fear, but close enough. I pressed home my advantage. Two could play at the hand grenade game.

"Yeah...that's what I'll do. I'll go along there and say sorry for both of us. Maybe Naomi can forgive and forget...me, if not you and Cook"

Effy straightened and her eyes blazed blue fire at me.

"I thought so...it's _always_ been her hasn't it Em? Always fucking Campbell. Even after all this time. I might have shagged you senseless to try and blot out reality, but it wasn't me who called out _her_ name when I came, was it... _darling_?"

I flinched at the truth in that harsh statement. That hit home.

"Whatever" I said coldly as she carried on staring at me, daring me to argue. "Well, you've had your fun Eff. _I'm_ sleeping in the bedroom alone tonight...guess it won't only be Cook who's reduced to wanking for relief...hun...enjoy the couch?"

This time it was our bedroom door that closed firmly. With me behind it.

I had a feeling tomorrow was going to be...interesting. In the Chinese way.

 **OK, another one done. Hope you enjoyed it. The aftermath is next. Comments welcome?**

 **Thanks for popping by!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi again lovely people. Sorry about the delay, but at least you will have had the consolation of reading 'Walls' by _mswitsend_. You HAVE been reading that amazing story, haven't you? Because if you haven't, you're missing a treat beyond rubies. Author of _Stonem House_ and all round brilliant story teller. It's an 'M' rating, so you might be partially excused for not seeing it immediately. But correct that error straight away! You won't be sorry...**

 **Right, well, life has been beyond hectic recently, with med exams, holidays and a certain beautiful Polish girl called Elise, who has been occupying my time somewhat. Not that I'm complaining, but it has meant I've been neglecting my friends and you guys while I sort my life out. Lets just say certain things I have been _up to_...have influenced this chapter more than a little. Say no more? **

**So, apologies for the wait and here goes. Skins remains the property of someone else, however these damned mistakes are all my own work. Deal with it...**

Emily

My head was ringing as I stumbled as if with shell shock back to my empty apartment. In one single hour, my life has been upended and scattered like the aftermath of a grenade attack. Not as you might be excused for thinking, because of last night...although last night was certainly the catalyst. But because of what I've done...what _we've_ done since.

" _You shagged her_ " my inner voice accused like a looped voice over. "You _shagged_ her"

Which is a description so weak, so wide of the truth, Donald Trump would have been proud of it. I didn't _just_ shag her. Although that would have been unforgivable even by itself, given that my official girlfriend only recently departed our flat earlier today. But it has never been 'just a shag' with Naomi Campbell, has it? Even when she was paddling up that Egyptian river and using the sort of hot and cold techniques on me that a CIA interrogator would be impressed by, it was never just a shag. She might have left the heavy lifting to me as it were. Letting me make all the running and pretending after the dirty deed was done that it was all my idea, or some sort of fucked up teenage experiment. But even then, her eyes always betrayed her. I knew she loved me even as she brushed me off, or cut me dead in the corridors of Roundview. Naomi Campbell might think herself aloof and unreadable, but after a couple of years hanging around with Elizabeth Stonem (yeah, the woman you just betrayed, Emily) I was much better at understanding hidden emotions, even at 6th form. Now, she is as simple to read as a four word wall poster.

So...not 'just a shag' then...

No, definitely not. I went to her door with a single simple mission in mind. Apologise for Effy's Machiavellian games and to reassure my new neighbour that nothing had changed. We might be living within 10 feet of each other after years apart, but we both had 'proper' relationships now (even if shaky all round just now) so we owed it to our partners to be adult about all this and ignore Cook and Effy's attempts to game us.

That resolution lasted until she opened the fucking door.

Last night had been horrendous for me. Feelings I thought I had buried deep inside were suddenly bubbling to the surface big time. Effy had respected my anger and humiliation after we got back from her little set piece and slept on the couch overnight. When I got up this morning, the apartment was empty. It was just after 6 am and as Effy normally sleeps in till 10, I am the one up and about at dawn. But her bedding was neatly folded on the side of the couch and no sign of her, or even a whiff of cigarette smoke to show she had been around. It wasn't until I looked out of our bedroom window, down into the half empty car park, that I saw her. Smoking of course. But who she was smoking with was a bit of a shock.

Fucking Cook.

Standing by a customised Golf Gti with blacked out windows, shiny and new. It might as well have had ' _sponsored by amphetamine_ ' on the sun shield. Leaning against the bonnet he was, talking fast and grinning cheekily at my fucking girlfriend. Suddenly I was a teenager, back at Roundview. My stomach clenched in that old familiar way. Jealousy gripped me as fiercely as it had whenever Effy chatted to an admirer in the corridors of college, which was very often. After Naomi had disappeared to Cyprus for 6 weeks, Ms Stonem had quickly replaced her as my new obsession. Which carried with it the same feelings of insecurity and despair I'd had at being rejected by Naomi, strangely enough, even though Effy was a lot more open to PDA's and stuff.

Cook laughed at something Effy said just then, and looked up at our floor. I ducked behind the curtain, but the burst of fresh laughter I heard through the double glazing, even a few floors up, made my anger surge. The fuckers were _laughing_ at me?

After humiliating me with Naomi, duping me about the identity of our next door neighbours and ruining the already uncomfortable evening with crude innuendo, now they were _laughing_?

I let out an exasperated huff and spun away from the window. Two could play the clever conjurer if thats what they wanted. I was supposed to be going through files all morning before compiling a report for my new bosses tomorrow. But it could wait. So I made myself a strong coffee and deliberately stayed away from the window for an hour or so. When I did look outside again, the car park was completely empty. Effy hadn't come back upstairs, so the chances were she had either fucked off with Cook for the day, which made my stomach clench some more...or more likely...had gone off in search of illegal substances to hide inside. The unreadable Ms Stonem was all too readable when domestic trouble loomed. Either way, that argument could wait. I had something else to do first.

Which led to me being outside Naomi's door at silly o clock this morning. I thought it would be safer this way. Last night, with alcohol and shock affecting me, I wouldn't be safe around her. This morning, maybe I could have a civilized conversation with my ex about last nights events without disaster striking.

Fat fucking chance, as it turned out.

She answered the door after quite a long delay. I knew Cook was out but I expected her to be up and about. But then, if she'd had the sort of night I had, I guess sleep had been hard to find. Probably relying on lots of coffee to stimulate her brain. I just had time to wonder about the possibility of Garibaldi's before she answered the door.

" _Oh?_ " she said quietly as the door swung open. Again I was transported back in time. To Pandora's party, warm Pinot Grigio and, well _and_...

Her little ' _oh_ ' as I asked for, then stole a chaste kiss from those soft lips. The first of several kisses actually...kisses that grew ever more intense as she surprisingly responded. Kisses that continued right outside, onto that stupid bouncy castle when, drugs or not, she stopped pretending to be straight altogether. At least for a while. Kisses that turned even more passionate and kisses that for once _I_ didn't have to initiate. If Katie's mulish boyfriend and his mates hadn't shown up to gatecrash poor Pandora's innocent pyjama party, we might even have got past first base then, instead of bypassing all the normal teenage fumblings and going straight to oral sex by a lake a couple of weeks later. But anyway...that little exclamation still resonated with me, and by the widening of her eyes, with Naomi too...

"Hi Naomi" I said huskily, lack of sleep making my voice hoarser than ever.

She didn't answer, just pulled the door open and stood aside. I took a deep breath and walked past her into her apartment. Show time...

XXX

Naomi

"Fuck fuck fuck" I thought, watching Emily's back disappearing into my lounge. I had a brief second to congratulate myself for at least tidying up after the car crash last night, but it didn't bring me much comfort. Emily Fitch...in my apartment... ...with me.

Alone.

Looking back, that repeated obscenity was about right for what happened later. Although a fuck it wasn't. It would have been so much easier if it had been. A frantic manual exploration of each other and some quick mutual satisfaction. Easy to put down to hormones and curiosity. Maybe then we could both have put it down to experience and never spoken about it again. But it wasn't and I'm no longer kidding myself that anything I get up to with Emily will ever be 'just' anything.

I suppose I should congratulate myself too for the the whole 8 minutes we stayed dressed. The awkward opening sentences and apologies from both sides. She sat on my couch, with her legs demurely crossed and I tried desperately to follow what she was saying even as my brain was screaming at me about soft lips and even softer flesh. My eyes were having conversations with hers just like they always had in the past. While our lips were occupied making small talk, our eyes were already making love.

Finally, just as she finished a sentence (fuck knows what about) I interrupted her, My mouth was bone dry and my heart was thumping like I'd run up and down the block a few times. She always had that breathless effect on me and this was no exception.

"Em" I said quietly and her eyes instantly went wide and scared "Em...I'm dying here...fucking dying. Why the hell are we sitting here talking? I know what I want...and I'm pretty sure you do too?"

Her face still looked panicky but I saw the shudder that went through her small body. Her hands were clenching and unclenching in her lap, as if she was trying to keep them occupied. Looking down, I saw with astonishment that I was doing the same thing.

When I looked up, the panic on her face was gone. Instead her eyes were black with enlarged pupils. I've seen that look before. Before she kissed me at Panda's party. Before she snogged me on the bouncy castle. Oh, and before she stripped me naked and gave me hands down, the best orgasm I have ever had, by that cold lake in autumn. The look that says "I want you Naomi Campbell...I want you now"

I was cooked and she knew it. But this time there was no faux resistance from yours truly. No pretend straightness. No denial. I wanted her as much, if not more, than she did me. Everything that had come before was just... stuff.

I don't remember who stood up first, just that one second we were sitting opposite each other, wringing our hands, the next I was inches from that delicious mouth, that irresistible body. I know I did make the first move. A tentative lean forward that reminded me again of Pandora's bedroom. But this time, when our lips joined, it was as if a 50 strong orchestra had just struck up a beautiful symphony.

XXX

Emily

Even as I was kissing her...no..as she was kissing _me_ , my brain was saying no. But its message was faint and inconsequential. Like a distant shout across a wide field. Easily ignored. Which I did. For long minutes. I heard a small, helpless moan, and realised immediately it came from my own throat.

We've kissed before...gently, tenderly and awkwardly. We'd made love before...all of the above still applied. But this was different. If I spared a single thought for Effy while my lips were hungrily responding to Naomi's, I'm ashamed to say I can't remember. All that mattered was more kisses, more contact with the body which was pressed against me, grinding, rolling. As if we were dancing to a silent, primeval beat.

My hands in her hair. Her hands on my hips, pulling, gripping...slowly driving me insane. We walked clumsily to the bedroom, still joined at the lips. I couldn't stop the small breathless sounds I was making at the back of my throat. If I sounded desperate, its because I was.

Clothes magically fell off as we stumbled towards the double bed.

"Emily...Christ...you're so..." Naomi whispered as my top dropped from my shoulders, "Em..."

I just shook my head. Words were utterly superfluous at this point. I knew what she was going to say, but it really didn't matter. As her eyes moved over my body, we stripped ourselves. No pretence, this was about us making love. It seemed as if the normal awkwardness when two people who aren't regular bed partners get naked didn't apply. I knew her body, even from the distance that several years give you. Those luscious breasts that I had once possessed and forever afterwards fantasised about touching again came free from her blue bra and I gasped again at how perfect they were. That gained me a shy smile, which quickly changed to a hungry look as I dropped my own underwear to the bedroom floor.

We crashed together again, this time skin on skin. God she was breathtaking. Still taller than me, which meant our mouths met perfectly as I tilted my head up to meet her lips and tongue. This kiss lasted long seconds while I luxuriated in the sensation of her warm skin pressing against me. The heat between my legs intensified as she pushed me backwards gently until we were side by side on the soft duvet.

This time as our mouths reluctantly separated, she held my eyes with those intense blue ones I had adored since middle school.

"We're really going to do this...?" she said breathlessly, lips a little swollen now from all the kissing.

I almost grinned at that. Ever the doubter, Naomi Campbell. Were we going to do this? I think if an audience of thousands had been watching we still would have. No way could I stop now. Instead of answering, I slid my hand between us and discovered her excitement. Naomi gasped and her face twisted almost as if in pain.

"God Emily...only you...only you..." she moaned as I dipped a curious finger inside her heat. I knew exactly what she meant. Only me...and only her too. She had the ability to send me straight to fever pitch with a look, a smile. It seems it worked both ways.

"Only me...and only you" I said, staring into her wide eyes "Stop talking Naomi...and start making me moan"

Her eyes got even wider as her brain processed what I'd just openly said. She'd never been one for verbal foreplay, given the brevity of our previous love making, but I had learned to enjoy the extra excitement it gave sex. The fact that I learned that with a certain Elizabeth Stonem was lost in the moment, but it came back to haunt me plenty later.

Her mouth closed over mine again and she began to make good on that offer. Her hands were less uncertain, less hesitant that they had been at college. I had a second before I surrendered to her completely, to wonder where she had learned the new moves she was making on me. But as soon as her hand slipped between my thighs I forgot to wonder any more. It was too exquisite, too overwhelming.

The first time was quick...it was always going to be. We were both too excited, too wound up, to make it last. I gasped my surrender onto her naked shoulder as she used her fingers to take me over the edge. A few seconds later she was moaning into my mouth as I used all the skills I had learned in the years we had been apart to bring her to a shuddering, clutching orgasm.

It should have been awkward after that. After our breathing slowed and our bodies cooled. But it wasn't. Instead, after slow kisses and indistinct murmurs of love...we started again.

I expected to have to take the lead, but this time it was Naomi who kissed her way down my body and began to pleasure me in a way I knew could only have been achieved by practice. Later I would think about asking her about that new skill set, but just then, with her tongue dancing over my clit and her fingers joining the party, I was too occupied arching and moaning my delight. I may have had stronger orgasms, but when I couldn't say.

Then it was my turn to return to the place I never thought to see, touch or taste again. My first time down there had been so overwhelming, the fact that the so called 'straight' Naomi was letting me do the most intimate thing a woman can do to another woman, I had no time to savour it. But this time I did. Hearing her moan, and cry out my name. Hearing her beg me for more...more everything, was making me wriggle even though she had so recently made me come. I took long minutes just teasing her. Bringing her to the verge of climax, just to back off and use feather touches of the end of my tongue to keep her teetering on the edge. But eventually I gave her what she was begging me for. Spearing her with straight fingers and lapping as fast as I could, I shivered with satisfaction as Naomi came...came hard and loudly, hoarsely calling my name. I think I could have listened to that plea for ever.

And then? And then we did it all over again. In one crazy, ecstatic hour, our lives changed for ever. The world outside didn't matter. Effy and Cook didn't matter. Work and family didn't matter.

Nothing but her eyes, her skin, her shuddering body. Her pleasure and mine.

Naomi Campbell. Mine again.

Except of course she isn't...mine I mean. No more than I am hers.

We dressed like two strangers. Back to back, lost in our own thoughts. I went to say something before I left her bedroom, but she put one cool finger on my lips.

"No Emily...no words. This was...well, this was..."

"A mistake?" I said brokenly. I could never have called it that, even though it was about to shatter my world all over again. Just like she did when I was 17.

" _No_ " she whispered fiercely "Never a mistake Em...but you have...and I..."

"Yeah" I said sadly "I know...so what the fuck are we going to do about that?"

This time she shook her head and bit that succulent bottom lip.

"I really don't know Em" she said quietly "but...we have to try to..."

I nodded and cupped her cheek in my hand. If this was the only time we would do this...if she couldn't...well, if we couldn't...then I wanted her to know I would never forget it.

"You need space to think Naoms...and so do I. Lets just take some time, huh?"

She leaned into my hand and kissed my fingers.

"Right...well...I'd better..." she whispered and pressed her lips to mine in a chaste kiss.

I swallowed the sob which threatened to contradict my calm exterior. Then I left.

And now? Now I'm sitting in my silent apartment, wondering how long I can hold off crying and how long I can risk delaying the shower I desperately need to wash the scent of Naomi Campbell from my guilty skin. A scent I crave like a drug.

XXX

 **OK, brief enough, but I'm having to ration my writing time because of work. Thanks for stopping by...comments?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Right...well thanks for reading up to now. I hope you enjoyed the bit of hot Naomily naughties in the last chapter, because its going to be in short supply for a little while. Sorry about that, but guilt and remorse seem to be the flavour of the month. Which is more than can be said for the other players in this farce. Cook and Effy aren't big on either of those emotions. Which should give you a clue where this is going (in the short term anyway). So...a warning about some hetero nonsense to begin with. Emily was right about Effy sodding off with Cook that morning. Mainly so she could kill two birds with one stone. To keep out of Emily's way until the twin calmed down (boy, did that _not_ go to plan) and to have access to strong non official medication, which Cook always has in plentiful supply.**

 **But Effy being Effy means she can't resist stirring the pot even more. It's in her nature. When things are fucked up...Stonems fuck them up even more?**

 **Sort of an 'M' chapter then. Don't say I didn't warn you...**

Effy

"So...let me get this straight...James Cook is saying no to one of my special blowjobs?" I say to the man in question as he sits beside me in his blacked out drug-mobile Golf. We'd been everywhere in the City today. Right from the off, Cook was on a mission to show me how good he is at this drug dealer stuff. He didn't need any persuading to let me come along this morning. Both of us are very much persona non grata with our respective partners anyway. Me for sly scheming and him for...well...for being Cook.

I knew he would drop a bomb on the evening of course. In some ways we're identical. Never happy unless we're unleashing havoc on those around us. I do it more subtly, but hard or soft, it has the same effect. Emily is mega pissed with me for keeping her in the dark about our new neighbours identity and Cook is on the banned list for bringing up my attempts to force Emily into louder and louder appreciation of my shagging techniques...oh, and broadcasting to the whole room that him and blondie aren't getting much nookie themselves.

Whoops.

So here we were, after a hard day touring the hot spots of London cocaine consumption and having had a long lunch in some up market wine bar (Cook of course disappears every half hour to unsubtly dispense another dose of happy powder to eager punters). Its just as well his boss has everyone official squared away. Cook isn't exactly the sneakiest of dealers...

And now we're in an underground car park a mile from 'home'. I've had a couple of generous lines as well as a bottle of stupidly expensive red wine and...well...as Emily is off limits for now, I sort of need some sexual gratification. Cook was always a good shag, if sometimes basic. I knew if I could get his lurid dick in my hand...I'd get some much needed satisfaction, even in a cramped Gti.

But he was proving more resistant than I was used to. Unlike me, he's not drunk much today. Very unlike Cook, but as he explained, having the local CID on the payroll is one thing, traffic cops are quite another. Getting a driving ban would cut off his payroll pretty damned quick and he's got used to the lifestyle cocaine sales provides. So he's just done a couple of polite lines with me, to be social. Not enough apparently to consider cheating on Naomi Campbell.

I'd better change tack, I thought as he pushed my hand off his leg for the second time. Bit of a shock that. Usually, I'd just have to flutter my eyelashes and lick my lips to get Cook hard.

"Don't tell me blondie gives you the sort of head I always deliver Cook?" I wheedled "...you used to say I was the best cock sucker in Bristol...remember... _God loves a_ _swallower_?"

He obviously did, by the instant far away look in his eyes, so I helped his memory a bit more. Never hurts to over egg the mixture...

"Come on Cookie boy...who's gonna know? I'm not getting any from Emily for the foreseeable and Naomi definitely looks like she's locked up those prim knickers for the season. Lets get together and make each other feel alright?"

Deliberately using one of his old corny lines was a gamble, but his face softened as I stroked his jean clad thigh again.

"Yeah...it was good... _then_ Eff" he admitted grudgingly "But I love her, yeah? Always had a thing about blondie and she's been real good to me, despite last nights fuck up. A couple of nights sad wanking on the sofa and she'll come round, she always does?".

I bit back a sarcastic remark, because, well because I quite fancied reacquainting myself with Cook's sturdy equipment. Given the right motivation, he could go on for ages...certainly long enough to get yours truly off. He might be telling the truth about loving Naomi, but a stiff dick knows no loyalty. And Emily was definitely not putting out for a while. I knew how she operated. Once I'd humiliated her, all those doubts and fears she used to have about Campbell will resurface, only over me. I tried subtlety again. Well, sort of.

"Look...what's a little old blow job between good friends? You know I'll make you happy Cookie. And I'll bet Naomi doesn't..."

I leaned close to his ear and made him an offer no sane man would refuse. He stiffened, and not just in his pants, those cornflower blue eyes going wide and unfocussed.

"Fuck Eff...that's not fair" he said hoarsely.

No it wasn't. Specially on his doting girlfriend, but what's a girl to do to get her rations?

I slid my hand over the newly visible bulge in his 501's and squeezed firmly. His head went back and he groaned. The hand that had been gripping my wrist relaxed. I chanced a small, self satisfied grin as I bent closer to his waist. Guys are so weak when it comes to sex. The sound of buttons popping on his flies was the only one in the confined cabin, but lets face it, I'd done this a hundred times over the years...sometimes in even more cramped spaces. My reputation for being the best at this was something I lorded over Emily's sister for years. Katie might have been good at it too, but like I said to her on the first day of college "I never have to try"

Going commando is something Cook always did, even at college. It made my job a bit easier this time too. He lifted his hips as I pulled at the heavy denim and his erect cock sprang up to meet my eyes. Still big, still pretty impressive, even with the faded art work on show. No resistance now, but I couldn't help adding to the tension. Gripping him softly with my fist, I slowly pumped him and leaned up, at his ear again.

"You were always good for more than one go Cook?...Why don't I take the edge off...then you can fuck me until I scream...I bet there's room for me to sit on you in here...yeah?"

The fresh groan that produced was almost painful. His eyes were closed and I could see him clenching his fists by his sides, willing me to make good on my promises. Well, I've never disappointed anyone yet, male or female...

When my head dipped lower and I engulfed his thick shaft, he panted like a man starved of oxygen. I guess I was right about Naomi not being a fan of oral sex ...except maybe with a certain stunning brunette, who was probably pacing our apartment right now, ready to give me the second dose of venom I was due for being out of touch all day. Well, I guess I'd better enjoy the moment, I thought dryly and began to bob my head slowly and deliberately.

Five long, teasing minutes later, Cook got his reward for being so compliant. He stuck it out longer than I thought he would actually. With Naomi not being a fan of fellatio, I reckon it had been a while since he'd been with a girl who really liked it.

And I do like it.

He kept his hands off me right up until he lost it. Then he bunched his fists in my hair and roared his delight to the indifferent roof. I didn't need directions to grab his balls at the crucial moment. Some things never change...

Another few seconds bobbing, then a grateful mouthful of warm coke from the tin he offered me and the dirty deed was done. His dreamy smile told me that was something he would remember for a while, even if he suffered a bit of guilt for it.

But I was humming between my own legs now. Sucking a guy always does that to me. I love the feeling of power it gives me and now I needed something from the happy recipient. A quick snort of his 'special brew' each, kept for friends, not punters and we were both ready for the off again. I didn't need foreplay...going down on him had made me wet enough and the powerful hit of high grade coke stiffened Cook's resolve a treat. A bit of shuffling and some minor gymnastics then it was my turn to sigh in relief as he filled me with that newly revived dick.

I leaned my head on his shoulder as he rocked up into me hard. I knew it would take him a while, second time around, so I let him do most of the work, feeling his harsh breathing on my neck and just giving some filthy verbal encouragement when he needed it.

Ten minutes later, I threw my head back and groaned my own release, just before Cook let go again. We stayed like that for quite a while, as our breathing slowed and my heart returned to a normal beat.

Mission accomplished.

XXX

Emily

I paced the floor of our apartment for an hour in my bathrobe before I finally heard Effy's key in the lock. I felt like I was stuck in a hamster wheel, unable to do anything else but pace aimlessly and curse my weakness, then treacherously revel in the memories of Naomi's touch, her scent, her taste. I was slowly going mad, it seemed. It took me two hours earlier today to force myself off the couch and into the shower. Washing her off me felt like a betrayal, even though the real betrayal was to my girlfriend Effy. I stayed under the hot water so long my fingers wrinkled. Tears streamed down my face as I carried on that pointless internal review about what we had done and why it was so wrong. I could never regret making love to Naomi...it felt as natural as breathing...but unlike when we were teenagers, we both have commitments now and I have always hated the idea of cheating.

Which made me doubly miserable, because I had no idea how I was going to keep that guilt off my face. Effy is hardly the least perceptive of girlfriends, is she? My emotions have always been close to the surface and she sees through my deceptions effortlessly, even the small ones.

Until that lock turned, I was clueless about how to deal with this. Confess? Well, I could do that. But it would turn a stupid row into an existential crisis. I had no way of knowing how Effy would react to me being unfaithful. It had never crossed my mind before. _She_ might have fallen off the wagon a few times at uni, but since we graduated, she had been as monogamous as me (I think).

The fact that it was me who was the adulterous one was almost funny, if it hadn't been so tragic. Little Emily Fitch, faithful, constant and devoted...a cheat.

I choked down another sob as I heard the door close and footsteps approach the lounge. Panic gripped me. Surely she would see it written on my face?

So thats why I did something even crazier, I guess. She walked into the room with that trademark smirk on her face. I think she was expecting another bollocking, or the old frozen silence, so she had her defences up in advance. I didn't give her time to speak before I closed the distance between us.

"I'm sorry...so sorry Eff" I said brokenly, enveloping her in my arms and hugging her hard. I felt her stiffen, then relax as the surprise left her.

"I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to..." I stuttered in her ear as she hugged me back. Still she said nothing as I squeezed her some more.

I grabbed her hair and pulled her round to face me, watching the puzzlement in her blue eyes.

"All my fault" I blubbed as she carried on looking at me strangely. I wanted to confess, to blurt out everything I'd done this morning, but for once in her life, Effy Stonem got the wrong end of the stick.

"Shhh...it's OK Em...it wasn't your fault. I was an idiot to keep it from you. Just a silly game that went wrong..."

I froze in shock when I realised she thought I was apologising for being mad at her. My confession dried in my throat as she watched my eyes. Now or never Emily, I thought frantically. Own up or lie...simple choice?

But my mouth wouldn't form the words my brain was generating. Instead of confessing what I'd done, instead I lurched forward and captured her lips with mine. Again she stiffened and I thought she was going to pull away, but then her mouth started responding and her clever tongue dipped inside my mouth to tease my own. At least this was familiar territory.

We stumbled into the bedroom, much like I had done with someone else, just hours before. It wasn't till afterwards that the irony of that hit. Effy was pulling at the cord of my dressing gown and once I was naked, wasted no time in moving down my body to claim her prize. I wanted to be the one who made love to her tonight, but she resisted when I tried to move into that old familiar position we both loved.

"No Em...its my way of saying sorry" she murmured, pushing me backwards and slipping easily between my thighs. I wanted to argue, to say it was me with the reason to make amends, but as always, her touch disarmed me. Once her mouth closed over my heat, I was lost. Minutes passed as she made love to me slowly and deliberately. Even though this morning had been explosive, Effy still knew enough about my body to quickly drive me to fever pitch. Before long I was rocking my hips and clutching at her wild hair, desperate for release. Naomi Campbell may have refined her techniques over the missing years, but Effy was masterful and expert at pleasuring a woman.

Guilt came again afterwards, of course. Not only had I betrayed her, but I'd let her take the blame and make love to me. Now, as I curled up on my side away from her sleeping body, I blinked away tears of remorse at what a bitch I had suddenly become...

XXX

Effy

Emily's breathing slowed as she finally gave herself up to exhausted sleep beside me. Once I was sure she was actually unconscious, I slipped carefully out of the bed and walked into the bathroom. Staring at myself in the harsh light of the bathroom mirror I finally let out the long, relieved sigh I had been holding back.

"That was _way_ too fucking close" I whispered to my reflection. "Elizabeth Stonem, sometimes you fly too close to the sun...I don't think your girlfriend in there would have appreciated finding out just how 'close' you and Cook were this afternoon...Jesus...she actually wanted to go _down_ on me..."

I shook my head and shuddered at the horrible idea of Emily finding out that way. Fucking Cook had been quite stimulating, but I had no intention of fucking up my relationship for a random shag, however satisfying. Thank God for peppermints, I said to myself...if Emily had any idea what I was doing with my mouth a little while ago, I don't think she would have been quite so eager to kiss and make up?

I turned on the shower and stepped gratefully inside.

XXX

Naomi

Cook was still out, probably doing his last deals of the day, so at least I didn't have to face him. I threw more bedding onto the couch and shut the bedroom door behind me. My own guilt was eating relentlessly at me and I had no intention of facing him if I didn't have to. Maybe I could get over this...maybe we could get over this. Except I couldn't get the memory of Emilys touch, her lips, her taste, out of my mind. I was right back at 17 again, intoxicated by the prospect of being with her, making love to her... _loving_ her, lets be honest.

Finally, I pushed open the balcony doors and stepped out into the night air. I didn't smoke any more, but the cool breeze and distant traffic distracted me well enough.

That's until I heard a faint, oh so familiar sound. A sound I had heard at much closer proximity only a few short hours ago.

Emily...Emily _moaning?_.

Emily making love. Emily being made love to. By Effy fucking Stonem.

Suddenly, the balcony wasn't quite so comforting. I felt myself freeze as her voice reached the sort of level I thought was now only reserved for me.

" _Eff...oh Eff...yes...fucking_ _ **yes!**_..."

I slammed the French doors so hard behind me a crack appeared in the double glazing. My guilt dissipated instantly. I'd been played for a fool...again.

XXX

 **Oh dear, debts and loans are being called in. Comments?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys**

 **This is a bit of a logistic exercise, because for some strange reason FF decided not to show this chapter as new, so it sort of got lost as an update. I've deleted it and plan to repost it with a new chapter heading to see if that works. Otherwise all my hard work was for nothing if no one sees it!**

 **Oh, and someone said they didn't really like Emily in this so far, and I kinda get that. She can cover her own neediness in a cloak of caring for Effy's welfare, I know. But put yourself in her position. Naomi ditched her at a formative time in her 'coming out' process and Effy was right there for her. Not just that, but she's been there for her ever since (with the occasional lapse). So I guess Emily is struggling with having overwhelming feelings for Naomi, which never really went away, and simultaneously wanting everything to be OK with her fragile live in partner. We all know cake and cake consumption are incompatible...but this IS Naomily after all!**

Emily

Its been almost a fucking week.

A _week_!

I didn't expect to hear much the day after me and Naomi had our little impromptu naked get together, but a _week_?

Effy has been trying her best to make it up to me after the shit storm of the other night, but I'm still racked with guilt whenever she tries to get handsy with me. Shock and a feeble lack of moral fibre is the only excuse I have for sleeping with her when she got back the evening after I'd cheated with my ex. Shock and the overwhelming need to obliterate the sick guilt I was feeling. Sex was a handy antidote for my self imposed sickness, but reality soon intrudes on your post coital bliss. I hardly slept at all that night. I dropped off eventually, but Effy getting up and showering sometime after midnight woke me. Quite why she bothered, I don't know...its not as if either of us normally do after sex. I like the warm, exhausted cuddles and she likes to watch me sleep, so we almost always drift off in each others arms. I was quite grateful she let me be that night though. I was riddled with quite enough self loathing after sleeping with my actual gf a few hours after cheating with my ex. Cosy cuddles would have probably reduced me to a gibbering wreck. I just know she'll find out eventually and then it will be Armageddon in the Fitch Stonem household. Effy doesn't do sharing, any more than I do. Even when we were at uni and experimentation was almost obligatory, we never did much shagging around. I was too grateful to have bagged the sexiest girl in Bristol (OK,...after you know who of course) and she, well she was considerate enough about my abandonment fears so only a couple of times fell off the bonk wagon. And that was only the occasional alleyway knee tremble with an obligatory bad boy after too much alcohol and/or pharmaceuticals. Another _girl_ as a rival would have wounded me too deeply, so she kept mostly to the straight and narrow (pun not intended).

No, we've been almost entirely loyal to each other. Up until now that is. Knowing Effy, she could probably shrug off a single mistake, if it had been with some random picked up in a club after a row and I had the excuse of drugs or drink. But with Naomi? No chance. Effy was too fucking perceptive by half to think _that_ was just a momentary weakness. And I could hardly use the drink/drugs excuse, could I? It never worked in the past, as my darling sister can attest. Snogging Naomi at that middle school party might have been prompted by MDMA, but it really only gave me the courage to do what I had ached to for months.

Anyway...all that aside...and its a fucking _big_ aside, I know...why has Naomi been completely avoiding me? I understand she will be as remorseful as me, but it was she who said clearly that she didn't think having sex with me was a mistake, wasn't it?

So why is she avoiding me?

I tried knocking on her door a couple of times when I knew Cook was out. Effy has an unusual 'job', which involves checking in at her mums new hideously priced boutique in Islington once or twice a week. Anthea is still trying to make up for years of alcoholic neglect of her wayward daughter, so once she and Jim got divorced (poor Jim drew the short straw when he got a massive payout from an old industrial injury claim, coinciding perfectly with their acrimonious marriage split) Anthea came into some serious money and basically pays Effy for just turning up now and again to model some of the amazing clothing. So I had no problem with my girlfriend being around to find out I was still haunting my ex. But although I knew full well Naomi was in...she just ignored my repeated knocking.

It hurts, you know? I thought...well...I _thought_ the other morning meant something to both of us. I know it was wrong on all sorts of levels and I should just leave it alone, but I can't. Naomi Campbell is back under my skin and even this sort of guilt and remorse can't fight that relentless itch.

So after the second bit of Campbell cold shoulder, I decided to write her a note. With Cook out of the way again, no doubt topping up a few bankers noses, I scribbled some words on a crumpled sheet of computer paper and slid it under their door today.

 _Naomi_

 _I don't know why you're ignoring me? I understand what happened the other day was wrong and that you're probably feeling as guilty as I am about cheating on our partners, but we can't just pretend it never happened, can we?_

 _It wasn't just sex and I know you feel the same. It never was for us, was it?_

 _We need to talk about what happens now. I can't stop thinking about you. It's driving me crazy._

 _I promise not to jump you if you agree to meet, just to talk. Honest._

 _But I DO need to see you._

 _Please. Just call me and I'll be wherever you decide to meet up._

 _Em_

 _07923 551962_

 _XXX_

I almost rewrote the damned thing because of the kisses I automatically added, but then thought 'fuck it'. We shared a lot more than kisses just a few days ago.

Then I went to work and fretted about the call I was hoping for and dreading to get.

XXX

Naomi

"The fucking _cheek_ of the bitch" I raged, red faced with indignation when I came out of the bathroom and saw the folded piece of paper on the floor by the front door. I knew instantly what it was and who'd written it. I didn't even need to unfold it to know who it was from. That almost childishly neat and flowing script with my name on top told me everything I needed to know.

Emily fucking Fitch.

But of course, I _did_ read it. Several times. None of which made the contents any better or palatable.

How _dare_ she just pretend that things were still OK between us. She might not know that I heard her getting laid the other night, but she knows she _did_ it. And did it less than 12 hours after we had made love over and over again. Did it when she said we just needed time to think. Well, _I_ did some thinking. _She_ just dropped her knickers so that normal service was resumed in the Fitch/Stonem house.

Whereas I have been studiously avoiding Cook for two good reasons. One, I'm still mad at him for humiliating me. And two. I know how he operates when I'm angry with him...just the smallest hint of encouragement and he'll bring home wine and that ultra strong skunk he gets at work. He knows full well that just half of one of those skins and I'm like a floppy doll. He'll get to bone me and I'll let him because I can't be bothered to say no. Then he'll think everything is rosy again, but I'll still be aching for someone else. No, _I_ can't be like Emily Fitch and fuck my other half within hours of shagging someone else. I just can't.

But the fact that she could and still has the nerve to keep trying with me is astonishing. I never had Emily down as a cool cheater. I don't suppose Effy would see it like this, but with our history, it isn't totally unbelievable for Emily to weaken faced with my close proximity (I'm not being big headed, just honest) But to go back to Effy the same fucking _day_?

I screwed the note up, then unfolded it straight away. Uncomfortable echoes of another note which landed in the bin, then got straightened out so I could phone her resounded in my head, but I shook the thought away, then rang the number on the yellow paper.

She answered in two rings. I could hear a busy office in the background, so I kept it short.

"We need to talk, Emily" I said in a clipped voice

"Oh...uh yeah...of course...that's what I was try..." she said quietly.

"Cook is away all this weekend on business. Name a time Saturday or Sunday and I'll make some arrangements" I interrupted in the same icy tone

"Uh, umm, yeah sure thing...I mean I'll ring you with a time then?" Naomi...you sound really upset, is there anything wrong...?"

I couldn't help it. I let out a short sarcastic laugh at that gross understatement.

"You could say that Emily" I rapped, then immediately hung up. Another moment and I would be screaming down the line at her and I wanted to save that 'pleasure' for our face to face meeting.

XXX

Emily

Work came a poor second to nibbling my nails and worrying for the rest of that day. What the hell was up with Naomi? I expected her to guilt herself...its what she does. Her outward appearance might be one of an ice queen, but I know what bubbles under the surface. Doubts, fears, indecision and worry. All bundled up inside her head. The main reason why she fucked off to Cyprus, rather than face up to her feelings for me. The result of all that teenage angst was me finding out that other girls found me attractive too and Elizabeth Stonem decisively claiming me in that 6 week break.

But this was different, wasn't it? We're both older, more mature and less afraid of what others might think. Others apart from our partners of course. Cook and Effy are just collateral damage at the moment. But why is Naomi taking it out on me?

I forced myself to be normal at work and later at home. Effy was being pretty quiet right then and left me to do some late night file sorting on my laptop instead of staying up with me. It was a relief. I'm running out of excuses about why I don't want to have sex with her again. Doing it the other night gave me intense feelings of guilt. Both for her and Naomi. In effect I cheated on them both that day. It's just not me, and it makes my heart ache. Just as well Naomi doesn't know I gave in...that really would be a knife in the heart for her. I know how much she values honesty?

So I finally went to bed at about 1 am and fretted some more about the upcoming meet with my ex, and why she was being so cold with me.

Morning came as no relief. Sleeping for a couple of fitful hours isn't me either. I need my 8 hours to feel refreshed. So I was grumpy with Effy when she offered to make me breakfast. Thank God she took the hint again and left me to my coffee. My head was humming with confused indecision and the last thing I needed was polite conversation over the cornflakes.

I didn't see the note until she'd left for Anthea's boutique. A bit of address card ripped out of a delivery package, yellow and creased. Propped up on the hallway table, next to my keys. I wrinkled my brow in puzzlement. Effy doesn't do notes. Not once in the 4 years or so we've been together has she left me one.

But here it was.

" _Hi babe...you're obv in a mood over something, so I'm going to give you a bit of Emily alone time. Mum is going on a buying trip to Paris this weekend. I'm going with her. Maybe bring you back something sexy to put a smile on that gorgeous face?_

 _Love you_

 _E. xx"_

I had to read it another three times to understand it. Effy never went away with her mum, like _ever_. She always said two hours was her absolute maximum endurance period with either of her parents.

But here it was...the evidence that she was planning on a couple of days in France with Anthea. I picked up my phone and called her immediately. Straight to voice mail. Tried Anthea too, but got a similar lack of response. I sat there for a minute, gathering my thoughts. Then it hit me. Effy away, Cook away. Me and Naomi...alone, but together.

Guilt washed over me again when I couldn't stop the surge of pure joy it prompted. While the cats away then, I thought before squashing that treacherous bit of hopefulness. But it didn't silence my inner voice, wanting the absence of our partners to yield something more than an argument.

XXX

Naomi

I waited until lunchtime on Saturday to make the call. I'd not seen or heard from Effy or Emily since the brief conversation I had with my ex at her office, which made things a bit easier and with Cook away, I found stuff to do after I got back from work which filled the empty hours. I bought all new bed linen and dumped the old stuff in the rubbish skip downstairs. Not that it held any faint scent of our previous indiscretion on it, but I just couldn't look at the pale blue duvet cover and pillowcases without seeing a naked, smiling Emily lying on them. It was still too raw.

So my credit card got a jolt, specially as I decided, whilst I was in a spending mood, to revamp the lounge too. Spending money on plastic is way too easy nowadays. I could see my mothers disapproving frown in my minds eye as I passed the card over to the furniture salesman in town. But when the new couch and soft chairs arrived as promised on Friday, it was the first time I'd felt good in days. Maybe I'm turning into Katie Fitch as I get older. She always said retail therapy was food for the soul. Strangely enough, once me and her sister had split for good, she stopped being such a bitch to me and we actually had a few civilised conversations before we ended our college days. Her venom was reserved for Effy Stonem by that time, so I got a free pass. Ending up with Cook as I did must have forced her to re-evaluate her opinion of me. No longer the 'big lezzer', corrupting her sister I suppose...

Anyway, retail splurge over and with the apartment sparkling clean and refreshed, I took a deep breath and thumbed Emily's number on my phone. I had every intention of deleting it for good after today's meet. Something told me neither of us would be calling the other much afterwards.

She answered inside two rings again. I shouldn't have taken that much satisfaction in that, knowing that she was keeping the phone close in case I called, but I did. My bad.

" _Hi...Naomi_?" she said breathlessly.

" _The same_ " I said dryly ".. _.are you OK to come round?...Cook's away in Manchester and if Effy's not..."_

" _She's in Paris...with her mum?_ "

" _Right...well, ideal opportunity then. I'll leave the door open_ "

" _K...see you in two minutes then?_ "

I just hit the disconnect button as a full stop. I wasn't about to have any polite chats with Miss Fitch at all.

XXX

Emily

Stupid, I know, but I couldn't stop myself dressing for effect. Even down to the new underwear I bought on Wednesday. By the tone of her voice, Naomi was hardly likely to want to see me in (or out of) it, but old habits and all that. I'd done a fair bit of dressing up for her benefit at Roundview, but apart from the odd curious glance, it never worked then either. Strange to recall how, the only time we got naked together (apart from recently of course) was when we both looked like we'd been in the washing machine spin cycle too long. Lying in damp, crumpled clothes by that lake in the cold night air, we'd made each other blissfully happy without any contrived visual stimulus. Of course, the next morning, it was back to normal, but...

So anyway, I made the best I could of myself. A nice cream silk shirt, unbuttoned a bit to show off a hint of my new pink lace bra, over a pair of really tight black Levi's. My blue suede boots and a simple silver curb necklace completed the picture. I risked a squirt of Jo Malone Nectarine and Honey scent on my neck and wrists. I'd worn that the other night and if it brought back memories of warm skin and breathless cries, who was I to argue?

Turned out I needn't have bothered. Naomi was obviously not in the mood to appreciate fine perfume...

The door was half open when I got there, so I steeled myself, took a deep breath and pushed it open. My first impression was of polish. Not as in Warsaw... furniture polish. The place smelled like a show home. Not at all like it had the only other time I'd been inside the apartment. Then it was just...well ordinary. Now it seemed someone had been spring cleaning like crazy.

That first impression was reinforced when I got to the lounge after closing the front door and walking down the hall. I could see new furniture and the 'just cleaned' effect was in full force. I didn't know why it mattered, but my heart fluttered anyway. Naomi was making some sort of statement and I didn't think it was to impress me.

She was standing in the middle of the room, looking out of the window with her back to me. I stopped a foot away and risked a polite hello.

"Hi Naomi...its..."

"Yeah, I know" she said laconically "...the perfume slightly gave you away"

Then she spun on her heel to face me, and looked straight at my face. Her eyes were blazing blue and just for a second my heart thumped with joy at how utterly beautiful she looked. Unlike me, she hadn't dressed up. Just a simple black tee and grey cargo pants. But still breathtakingly beautiful...

The next words out of her mouth smashed that little moment of pleasure completely.

"But unlike last time...it isn't quite having the same effect Emily"

I opened my mouth to ask what was up, but she was obviously on a roll and dismissed my attempt with a wave of her hand.

"Lets just get to the point, huh... _hun?_ " she said coldly I cringed a bit at the obvious venom in that last word. This was going to be bad.

"Putting aside the fact that we've both cheated on our partners...can I ask you a straight question?"

It took me a second to answer. I had no idea what she was going to say, but this was hardly the time to stall, was it?

"Sure" I said slowly "Anything you want..."

Her mouth set in a hard line before she physically shook herself then started to speak again.

"The day you left here...you know, after we slept together and told each other how much we still... _liked_...each other?"

I nodded dumbly.

"You remember that then?" she said icily "I had the stupid idea in my head that I might have dreamt it all..."

There really wasn't anything I could say to that was there? I still had no idea where this was all going, but I had to let it play out. There wasn't any choice.

"Pretty uncomfortable for both of us I guess...you know... pretending to our other halves that nothing had happened and everything was fine. _I_ found it hard anyway...Cook isn't exactly the worlds most perceptive boyfriend, but even he had the sense to stay clear. Making him sleep on the couch for being a monumental dick is pretty normal service for him, so..."

Again she shook her head as if clearing it.

"But then, maybe Effy has a different way of dealing with her girlfriend when things have gone tits up?"

My heart was suddenly seized with an icy grip. She _couldn't_ know...could she? The guilt must have been written all over my face, and I could feel tears pricking my eyes, making me blink furiously. How the hell...

Naomi smiled at my expression. Not a friendly smile. More a rictus.

"All coming back to you then Em?... _I_ make Cook sleep on the couch...where he still resides by the way, because unlike _some_ people, I can't pretend to want him when I've just shagged my ex for hours in our bed. But you don't seem to have that problem, do you Emily?

My mouth gaped open even as the first tears started to fall. How the fucking hell could she possibly know I'd slept with Effy that night...?

She smiled again, with as much warmth as last time. I'd never seen her look so angry with me.

"Oh...you're wondering how I know Emily? Lets just say after I banished Cook to the living room sofa, I needed some fresh air. Our balcony might not be right next to yours, but on a still night...with the windows open...its easy to hear what's going on next door. Sounded like Effy was giving it to you good and proper. " _Oh Eff...like that_ _babe...just like that_ "

I cringed at the harsh impression of what I'd been doing with my girlfriend that night. I had no defence and I knew it.

"I...I...I mean she..." I stuttered, unable to say anything coherent.

"She what Ems? She still knows how to make you come...even after I'd exhausted you for hours...She does it better than me...or was it just that you felt you had to spread the love around...you know...like you did with JJ at college?"

The tears were now flowing unchecked down my cheeks. That was a low blow, brining up my one heterosexual fling, but I guess I deserved it after what I'd done. I had no way of arguing with what she was saying. It was all true.

I shook my head and just stood there weeping. The cosy fantasy of running off into the sunset with my first love had been exposed for the foolish notion it always had been.

"So sorry...I didn't...I shouldn't...it was just that I couldn't..."

This time Naomi stopped looking angry and her face took on a defeated look. The look I remembered from Roundview, when she first found out Effy had claimed me.

"No...its me who's sorry Emily. Sorry for being such a stupid cow. She's always been more powerful that me...always been first in your eyes. I should have known better than to try. Effy fucking Stonem wins again"

She shrugged and I saw tears in her eyes too now.

"Well...at least I haven't wasted any more time than this. You can go back to her and...well...get back to normal. I'm gonna look for somewhere else to live. Me and Cook have been on the outs for a while now anyway, so I suppose I should thank you for putting the final nail in the coffin. Once I tell him why I'm leaving him, he won't be calling next door for friendly chats any more though. So...if you don't mind..."

She waved in the direction of the front door

"...I have some letting agents to call...who knows, maybe going back to sunny Bristol might be a good idea. No chance of us bumping into each other then, is there?"

There really was no point in staying. She turned her back on me and stared out of the window again. I walked numbly to the lounge door before turning one last time.

"You won't believe me Naomi...but I don't regret a single minute of it. I still love you as much as I ever did...even if I have fucked up so badly that you never want to see me again. I'm going to have a conversation with Effy too about our future, or lack of it. I think we've both crossed a line we can't go back over. Maybe in time you can forgive me,,,maybe I can forgive myself one day? I love you Naomi Campbell. Whatever else has happened, that's still true, even if you don't believe it right now"

She didn't answer me. Just a soft sob and the shaking of her shoulders told me her tears were flowing as hard as mine.

XXX

 **Comments would be nice...even if its negative!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey again. Life has been kicking me about a bit recently, but I managed to squeeze enough time out of my day to get this chapter up. Hope it doesn't disappoint.**

Naomi

I'm enjoying myself...really enjoying myself. So why is it I feel like I'm telling the biggest lie I've ever told?

Hearing the door close quietly behind Emily yesterday was like a vault being sealed. The past...and if I'm honest a good part of my rosy, imagined future... was now the other side of that sturdy frame. And it hurts...a lot.

I must have cried for half an hour after she went. Hugging myself like I used to when I was an angsty teenager and, now she'd left, allowing big tears to fall for my lost love. Because that's what she is. I had my chance, back at Roundview when Emily Fitch worshipped the ground I walked on. I lost count of the times I snubbed her, rejected her and generally made her life a misery. All because I wouldn't...no _couldn't_...allow myself to give in to the emotions which were tearing me apart. She could ruin my life, I kept telling myself. Alone in my bedroom, with the world shut out and my iPod plugged firmly into to my ears, I could maybe allow myself to dream, to imagine what life would be like if I said yes to her...just once. But in the corridors of Roundview...out in the pubs and clubs? In _public_? No chance.

So when I did give in, that night by the chilly lake when there were no excuses left and it was _me_ who leaned forward and captured the sweet lips that had sought mine so often, it was as if my whole world tilted sideways. Everything I thought I knew about myself was swept away in a tangle of naked limbs and liquid brown eyes. Suddenly confident hands possessed me and Emily took me somewhere no teenage boy had every got close to.

But it wasn't even just the amazing sex. And oh boy was it amazing sex.

OK, my previous experiences hadn't exactly lived up to the sort of lurid promise that glossy magazines and romantic books (which were my only source of reference up to then) made me. Clumsy boys with rough fingers and sloppy, stubbly kisses were a real let down, and then lets just say my few full sexual encounters were even less satisfying than the adolescent foreplay which preceded them. Maybe if I'd slept with an older, more experienced lover in my teens, I might have something to measure that night with Emily against. But even then...and with the experience of living with Cook (who actually can be quite a considerate lover on occasion)... what happened by that cold water, on crumpled, damp clothing, was a cosmic supernova.

Emily Fitch, with her target at her mercy, proved that she didn't need a dick to make me happy. Quite the reverse in fact. I came so fantastically hard, I almost passed out...but like I said, it wasn't even 'just' the sex.

The after sex cuddling, the murmured words of what I know now is love and just the sheer joy of being alone and wrapped around a contented Emily Fitch was totally unnerving. _After_ that is. While it was actually happening, I was as happy as any woman has a right to be.

Which of course scared the living shit out of me.

And that's why I fled the next morning, leaving her to throw desperate words after my cowardly, disappearing body. Words that burned into my brain like a fiery brand. Words that made me so ashamed, I spent the next evening on her doorstep, holding her warm hand in mine through that stupid cat flap while I sobbed out some lame excuse about nothing being that simple...love that is.

Another big fat lie to add to my shameful tally of Campbell untruths.

So I couldn't blame her at all for looking elsewhere when I abruptly fucked off to Cyprus to meditate on my same sex doubts for 6 whole weeks. 6 weeks in which she learned to live without her daily Campbell fix. 6 weeks in which, with college on the long mid term break, Effy Stonem slipped seamlessly into my place and smoothly replaced me as Emily's love interest.

A fact that broke my heart so badly when I got back, that in my misery I gave in and let Cook 'make me feel alright' over a chipped and squeaky desk as he so charmingly put it. The sex was OK...ish, but the aftermath was terrible.

It all started as some sort of fucked up revenge for Emily moving on. Something to hold onto while she was so obviously loved up with the beautiful Ms Stonem. Something to look forward to when yet another lonely night in the room I used to think of as my sanctuary was impossible to stomach. Oh, and someone to fuck the daylights out of me for half an hour at least, banishing thoughts of soft brown eyes and smooth creamy skin.

My mother couldn't have disapproved more if she'd come up to my room and chucked a bucket of cold water over our naked and sweaty bodies. My mum loved Emily as much as I did and she knew without me saying a word that Cook was very much a pale substitute. Actually, as a guy, she quite liked his cheeky chappie exterior and charming smiles, but that doesn't mean she saw him as anything more than a convenient tree trunk for me to scratch my itch on. Once it got more regular, she started worrying about what sort of future I was planning with this engaging, but obviously morality free guy.

How it happened, I don't think I could even explain, but in a whirl of exams, drugged up parties and icy winter days spent obsessively shagging Cook to prevent me thinking about...well about _her_ , college was suddenly over...and so were my dreams of winning Emily back. Distant universities beckoned for us all, apart from Cook of course. Him and Thomas Tommone having one single thing in common...being expelled. Cook for...well, just for being Cook. Thomas for having the misfortune to be the unofficial DJ at the under age club night where that strange girl Sophia Moore offed herself by jumping off a balcony, high on MDMA. Our new Principal of Roundview...the odious Dr Blood...took great pleasure in ending Thommo's dreams of a proper education in the UK. Last I heard, our African friend was in Manchester, still spinning vinyl for a living, but with a proper salary and the ever faithful Pandora Moon as his permanent assistant.

Me and Cook? Well, he hung on to me like a limpet as I slaved my way through a first class degree course...which ended up being expensive AND useless. None of my dreams worked out when you think about it. No going off into the sunset with the adoring Emily, no well paid job at Westminster as a first rung on the slippery political ladder I'd been determined to climb. And now?

Now I'm in a posh flat, mostly paid for by Cook's marching powder sales plus my meagre wages as a lowly journo on a free sheet local paper. My 'boyfriend' is a drug dealer, almost certain to get his collar felt some day soon, then locked up, leaving me with sky high rent I could never afford and a job I hate. My ex, having turned up so unexpectedly with Ms Stonem still in possession, had slept with me, then almost without a pause, fallen straight back into her girlfriends bed. Emily's cries of genuine passion with Effy still haunted me.

Life is pretty shit all round then, isn't it?

So why did I start off by saying I'm enjoying myself then?

Because for the first bit of the evening/night, I was. Enjoying myself that is.

After I'd cried for a bit longer on Saturday morning, I eventually got myself together. Emily was gone, but I'm in my early twenties, I scolded myself. Its not too late to have some fun. With Cook on his long weekend dealer tour, getting fucked up in Manchester (and bringing back no doubt, industrial quantities of illicit chemicals) I had our place and in fact all of London town at my disposal. I'm young, reasonably attractive and (OK Cook hasn't had the memo yet but...) newly single. Time to live a bit, yeah?

So after a half eaten lunch of peppery green salad and some crusty Italian bread from the deli, I showered and got out my party clothes. Then I dug out that scrap of paper from my knicker drawer and called the lovely Emma.

Who as it turned out, was surprised but _very_ pleased to hear from me. She even cancelled her own plans for the evening to meet up.

I fortified myself with that half empty bottle of Sancerre which was in the fridge, using the last delicious mouthful to wash down one of Cook's private stash of little blue party poppers. Fuck knows what's in them, but on the rare occasions I allow myself to indulge, I've always had a great night. Sort of a cross between the steel hit of high quality amphetamines and the mellow rush of _really_ good MDMA.

Tonight...or more accurately last night...was no exception.

Emma was...well...as much fun as last time...squared.

No, really.

When she turned up at my block to pick me up (no point in me being coy...she'd already had the grand tour...with knobs on) she looked downright ravishing. Long dark hair hung over her creamy shoulders and that pretty face, with its slightly disturbing echoes of a certain Fitch girl, was still gorgeous in full daylight. A simple black dress, high at the leg and low at the top, emphasised her...err...assets a treat. She didn't know of course, that she was playing second fiddle to the actual object of my lust, and I made sure it stayed that way. I kissed her gently on the cheek as she hovered in my hallway. OK, a bit formal after we'd shagged so recently, but I thought it best not to make too many assumptions. Look where that got me with _E_...well, you know what I mean?

Emma giggled prettily at my formality and cupped my face in her hands as I pulled away. Her eyes searched mine for a moment. I don't know what she was looking for, but she seemed satisfied with what she saw.

"I'm _really_ glad you called Naomi" she breathed, smiling brightly..."I thought maybe you'd decided to get back in that old closet...so, where _is_ lucky Jim anyway" she said, scanning the flat behind me "...don't get me wrong...the other night was fun...but will I have you to myself tonight...threesomes are so last year?"

Her laughter tinkled in the empty flat and I remembered how much fun we'd had that night without Cook's overpowering presence. Heat flooded my stomach as I recalled her breathless moans of approval at my newly confident lesbian caresses.

"Yeah...just little old me tonight. Cook is in Manchester until Monday, so the night is ours...and hopefully the morning too?" I finished with a timid smile, hoping that wasn't _too_ presumptions.

"Just little ol' Naomi is _fine_ with me" Emma said huskily (again making my heart flutter, both at her tone and the similarity with err...someone else) "...we can make our own fun, yeah?"

I flushed a bit more and to cover my embarrassment gave her a hug, which she returned with interest.

I'd decided on a simple blue cocktail dress with silver edging. It hadn't been worn before, mainly because I normally have an aversion to showing quite that much of my modest tits, but tonight looked like being very different to any other night out in living memory. The dress was just one of many firsts, I hoped...

Emma scanned my body with appreciative eyes when we stopped hugging.

"Wow...you scrub up rather well Miss Campbell" she grinned "So...shall we...?"

Locking the front door behind me, I spared a glance at our neighbours identical wooden panelled entrance along the hall, but there was no sign or sound to show whether anyone was in. I hoped not...even my new brave persona wasn't comfortable about rubbing Emily's nose in my 'date night'

Getting down to the car park, I saw Emma's cab still waiting. Luckily for us. In some parts of the East End, taxi's just don't hang around after dropping fares. Too many teenage hoodies with greedy eyes on their cash boxes. But this address is pretty up market, so the Merc was sitting there waiting with his engine running.

I couldn't stop myself looking upwards as the driver opened the door, at you know who's window. Just in time to catch a flash of movement behind the blinds. Someone was watching us leave and it certainly wasn't Elizabeth Stonem...that's if she actually _was_ away at all this weekend. Emily's bit of deceit over her girlfriend's seduction had me doubting everything she said now.

But I ignored the butterflies that particular bit of casual voyeurism gave me and got into the car with just a tiny smile of satisfaction. Revenge is sometimes too good to pass up on, yeah?

Sadly, that was more or less the high point of the evening with Emma, But then I need to tell you more about that, painful as it was, I suppose.

XXX

Emily

I reeled away from the bedroom window with my hand over my mouth. Fuck...she's already _dating_ , my mind sang...how did we go from that amazing reconnection a few days ago to this? I fucked up,..I know that more than anyone. I should have taken control, done something..anything...rather than fall into bed with Effy straight after spending hours in another bed with Naomi. But I was weak, compliant. Effy always knew how to push my buttons, right from the time she claimed me at Roundview. Flattery, sly caresses and a filthy mind were her main weapons. Back then I was vulnerable after Naomi had disappeared... for good for all I knew. I was easy meat for the most popular girl in college to seduce.

Back then I had an excuse though. Naomi didn't want me it seemed, Effy did. Even though she'd mown down unknown numbers of male admirers up to that point, once she decided to try the grass on the other side of the fence, she almost never looked back. That 6 weeks Naomi was AWOL? I had the most intense and prolonged sexual fun of my entire life. Up to that point anyway. And even if the night at the lake with Naomi had been a high water mark I never thought I could top, Effy made it her business to try. We had sex _everywhere_...empty classrooms, that little patch of trees at the back of the college fields, alleyways, toilets and many _many_ times in the privacy of her bedroom while her mother demolished bottles of gin downstairs, uncaring and insensible to the cries and moans of two girls learning everything about each others bodies above her.

I might have been green as grass going into the relationship, but by the time Naomi arrived back home, I was utterly corrupted, in the nicest possible way. No one ever said Effy Stonem was afraid to try something new. Once she decided that being with a girl was good for her, she set out to educate me, even though I was the 'out' lesbian of the relationship. Toys, role play...even once, in a seedy club toilet after stripping her flimsy dress off and hanging it on the door hook (Effy never was one for much in the way of underwear), she dusted her nipples and clit with strong MDMA, leaned back, stark naked against the steel wall and ordered me to lick it all off her...slowly...Jesus, I don't know how hard it made her come, but I was trembling with excitement without even being touched, kneeling on that cold floor, worshipping her with my eager tongue. Yes, I think I can safely say Ms Stonem comprehensively advanced my education that summer.

No wonder Naomi had no chance of winning me back when she finally turned up again. I had been hurt by her once too often, and now...now I had something of my own that wasn't constantly being snatched away. No more hanging around the steps of college, hoping for a glimpse of peroxide hair. No more suffering snubs and indifference when I tried to be friendly. No, Effy was completely at ease about PDA's and letting the world know that I was hers. Holding hands, check, kissing hello and goodbye, check. Walking me home (well at least as far as the corner of my road...things hadn't changed THAT much at Chez Fitch) and all the other things girlfriends are suppose to do. As far away from the cloak and dagger stuff I had to go through with Naomi as its possible to get. Shagging Effy was so easy compared to pursuing a reluctant Naomi.

But all that aside, I still carried a torch for a certain Ms Campbell. I admit it now...now that its too fucking late of course. Because Effy quickly reclaimed me the other night too and I made no real attempt to stop her. Part guilt at my betrayal, part loyalty and another part obligation. Whatever the makeup of that stupid decision, I know now it's cost me everything.

Because nothing has really changed in all the years I've been with Elizabeth Stonem. I'm still crazy in love with Naomi, but can't break the hold Effy has over me.

Can't resist when she beckons.

But seeing Naomi laughing and obviously at ease with that pretty brunette downstairs made my heart sink like a stone. Moving on...that's what they call it, isn't it? At least for one of us.

XXX

Naomi

The club was dimly lit, noisy and full of people. Mostly gay people it has to be said. Emma knew the place and judging by the hello's and smiles she got from both sexes when she walked in with me, this was a regular haunt for her. Not that I went without attention. I had tried to dress to impress and it wasn't just Emma who shot me an admiring glance or two.

Only when she went to the toilet did I encounter anyone less than polite. I know guys frequent gay clubs for different reasons. Some just to see what all the fuss is about, some because they are in the closet and crashing a gay club with your straight mates is a good way to eye up the merchandise without getting found out...oh, and like tonight?...Some guys do it because they think that gay girls are just misguided and after honing their skills on other women, will swoon at the first erection they see.

Eric, his name was. Not that I asked. We were into our fourth drink by then and the alcohol and tablets were really kicking in. I gave Emma one (a tablet, you perv!) and we were both grinding our teeth and getting into some heated tongue wrestling already.

So when 'Eric' sidled up to me and flashed a laser honed smile, I almost reverted to type. Normally and without tonight's chemical enhancement, I use my middle finger and a withering glance to put off would be male suitors. I might have spent the best part of four years pandering to Cook's permanent adolescent sex drive, but that didn't mean I wanted to replace him with a perma tanned TOWIE clone. Cook might be rough round the edges, but he's not exactly metro-sexual, if you know what I mean.

But I was buzzing with the MDMA and neat tequila, so I amused myself for a moment, tolerating his nuclear strength aftershave and lack of personal space sensor.

I smiled back and allowed him to exchange the drink in my hand for a full replacement. I knew Emma was only a few moments away from reclaiming me after going to the loo, so I just moved back slightly so his body wasn't touching mine and let him have his shot. Poor sap.

The pick up line he used was as cheesy and absurd as I expected.

"Hey" he said, using those unnaturally straight teeth to blind me some more "I'm Eric...not seen you in here before...could I just say something, beautiful?"

I inclined my head and fluttered my eyelashes. I was laying it on way too thick, but Eric wasn't exactly the perceptive type it seemed.

"I'd pay a hundred quid just to see you eat a banana" he said, arching his eyebrows and grinning even wider. I almost laughed out loud, but covered my amusement by swallowing a healthy amount of cocktail. _Really_...a fucking _banana_? Not exactly subtle, our little fellatio warrior.

I couldn't resist...this was too fucking tempting.

"That would be a shame" I said, slurring my words deliberately "...actually I prefer the real thing, you know...you get such a _tasty_ treat at the end...?"

His eyes went super wide and I think his libido selected top gear. I bet that lamo pick up line had never worked before, so he was doing everything but drooling at my teasing.

"Yeah...I'm a bit rusty...you know out of practice and all that, but I'll bet..." I said, leaning closer. His eyes were locked on my lips as if he was expecting me to drop to my knees and fish his dick out there and then. But I'd spotted Emma coming towards us, so I brought the charade to an abrupt end after one last sentence "...you're the sort of guy who lets a girl have time to enjoy a nice big one...yeah?"

I swear you could hear him swallow over the sound of the thumping PA. Lucky for me I had no intention of fulfilling his oral sex fantasy, tonight or any other night. Fuck, even Cook has stopped asking me for that little nasty favour.

I straightened and gave him a sympathetic look as Emma approached from behind him with a grin on her face like she knew exactly what I was up to. Time to let my priapic would be seducer down with a bump

"Oh damn...sorry err... _Eric_...my girlfriend is coming over and she's the jealous type" I winked, watching his little bubble of hope deflate as quickly as his erection. " _Thanks_ for the drink though...I really hope you're luckier with the next girl you use that line on...although you'd probably have more luck with the guys mate...I bet plenty in here would be happy to help you out with that little...problem?" I flicked my eyes down to the obvious bulge in his pants.

His look of absolute horror was worth the admission price alone. Cruel I know, but what's a girl to do?

I had time to wonder idly why guys find the idea of sex with another guy so awful, but drool over the possibility of seeing two girls go at it, before Emma slung her arm over my shoulder and kissed me soundly on the mouth. When we separated, Eric was nowhere to be seen.

But that was the high point of the night in retrospect. OK, we danced, laughed and had a few more drinks to keep the effects of the chemicals under control, but my mind kept coming back to another sexy brunette, probably crying in her lonely apartment after I had flaunted my 'date' in front of her. I tried to let it go...just go with the flow and allow the MDMA and the closeness of Emma's lush body against mine to turn this date into something more than just a fun night out. But by the time the music turned slow and couples of both sexes began to do more than just writhe against each other, she was noticing something wasn't quite right.

I let her kiss me...several times. Being in a gay bar meant no one even flickered an interest in two girls doing that, but she could tell my heart wasn't in it.

"Call me cynical Naoms..." she whispered in my ear as the music got slow and sexy. I shuddered with something close to distaste as that nickname registered "...but unless you've been turned by that sad dickhead earlier...something else is bothering you?"

Guilt washed over me as she pulled back and stared into my eyes. I'd set up this date to dispel any thoughts of Emily Fitch, and yet all it was achieving was to remind me what I was missing. Emma's body was beautiful and having it pressed against me was all I thought I wanted. But it was a pale imitation of the body I craved. When she laughed...or whispered naughty things in my ear, it was as though I was reliving the last time I held Emily in my arms. I felt suddenly angry...at myself and at Emily. Why couldn't I just move on?...Accept my sexuality, sure...but _not_ with a love I lost years ago. A love who definitely belonged to someone else now...someone who'd kept hold of her all those months and years I had been absent?

"I'm sorry Emma...I..." I mumbled as she carried on looking into my eyes. There was no fooling her and I wasn't about to make things worse by trying.

She pressed a cool finger to my lips, stopping my lame attempt at an explanation.

"It's OK...I get it hun. There's someone else...right? Someone you're trying to get over...forget? And I'm betting it isn't that nice guy we shared a bed with a few days ago? He's your guy...but he isn't the _one_ , is he?"

No more lying, I thought sadly. Time to fess up.

"Yes...you're right..." I said, looking away from those searching eyes and reaching down to hold both her hands in mine. "...her name's Emily...we were...well, very close at 6th form college..but I was in denial for ages back then, ended up shacking up with Cook because...well because it was safer. Now she's moved in next fucking door believe it or not. And now I can't get her out of my mind"

"Fuuuck..." Emma said slowly "...that's harsh. But why bother with me then? Why not just get back with her...this Emily girl?"

"She's...well, she's with someone...someone she's been with for ages. So its not really a goer?"

"Ahhh" she nodded "now it makes some sort of sense. Well babe...you've got two choices, haven't you? Move home and/or dump the unfortunate Cook, or just ask this Emily to make a choice between you and her partner. I take it she hasn't _just_ moved in next door though...you two have had a...moment...?" she asked.

I nodded guiltily. ' _moving in next door_ ' was a thin summary of what had actually happened. Shagged each other senseless was more accurate.

"Yeah...you could say that. But both of us feel like shit about cheating on our partners. Oh, and I 'accidentally' heard Emily getting a good seeing to the night after we...well...got reacquainted.

Emma shuddered.

"Fuck, that would have hurt...I bet. But if you say you're both feeling regret...doesn't that tell you that you have to move on yourself. If she's still hooking up with her other half, maybe she thinks the time with you was a one off?"

I shook my head sadly. If that were true...

"Nope. She called round this morning. Told me she still loved me. I told her to fuck off more or less. Threw that overheard shag in her face and more or less said it was a mistake"

"But it wasn't...was it?" Emma said slowly. "Not for you and not for her either by the sounds of it. So...coming out tonight...calling me...was just rebound stuff?"

I nodded, shamefaced. It was what it was and there was no point lying about it.

"I'm sorry Emma...I do really like you and I thought..."

"You thought a night out with someone you knew was well up for it would block it all out?" she said, but as I looked into her eyes, it wasn't bitterness I saw but wry amusement.

"Yeah" I said "..about sums it up. Bitch ain't I?"

"Proper bitch" she said and grinned. I must say, in her position I wouldn't be quite so generous.

"Look Naomi...we've had fun tonight. Everyone in here has...apart from poor Eric...lets just call it a night and get you back. You have some thinking to do, and taking me with you wouldn't help that problem at all. I take it Emily is home tonight?"

"I think so...her other half is in Paris this weekend" I said

"Right...then we need a taxi each and you need to knock on her door as soon as you get home"

"B..but it's late..she'll be asleep" I mumbled

"I doubt that...she's probably imagining I have you naked and gasping right now...which would actually be a lot of fun...but..."

"I can only apologise again" I said regretfully. On any other night, naked and gasping with Emma would have been way too much fun to turn down.

XXX

Half an hour later, with just a chaste kiss goodbye to show for the evening, I stepped into my lobby and called the lift. Getting to our floor and holding my shoes in one hand, I padded down the empty corridor to my front door, then took a deep breath and carried on walking.

I knocked firmly on the Fitch/Stonem door and waited, heart pounding. There was a few seconds delay, while while I listened to the faint murmur of the TV being quickly shut off. Then quick footsteps.

The door opened slowly and Emily stood there, eyes red rimmed and wearing a ridiculous, but curiously sexy set of white and pink teddy bear pyjama's. She looked adorable, vulnerable and utterly irresistible.

So I didn't...resist that is.

I could feel my feet carrying me forward. My voice saying stupid stuff like "I can't...can't stand it..."

Then we were kissing frantically...and stumbling into the silent apartment. The door slammed behind me.

"Bedroom... _now_ " I heard myself say.

XXX

 **OK, more drama next week, with news on the absent partners. You want to know about what Cook and Effy have been doing while this has all been going on, well, don't you? Hahaha, I _hope_ so!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello again, lovely people. I'm sorry for the inordinate delay in adding to this story, but there has been some unpleasant real life stuff to deal with in the _fragrantlily_ world. I won't go into detail, but it involves serious illness in my close family which has knocked us all sideways. I know you will understand that writing has to take second place sometimes. Anyway, we've all just about come to terms with it now, so I thought it would be cathartic for me to at least try to continue. It gives me something to do and hopefully gives you a few moments pleasure. Thanks to the people on this site who know me a bit better for being so supportive. It is appreciated.**

Right….

Naomi

Its early...not even the first tendrils of dawn's light are creeping across the wall I'm currently staring at. Been staring at for about half an hour actually. Lying in front of me, her silky hair tickling my nose and her sleek, naked form pressed right into me, is one Emily Fitch. She's making those adorable little snuffling noises I now know she makes when she's deeply asleep. I know that because I've been here before. Not in this apartment, lying comfortably in a post coital state, but by a lake and once, more recently in my own adulterous double bed.

Ahh the lake, then. That single, vivid memory which has never left me. Bit ironic that, as the first thing I did when I woke after Emily had claimed me over and over that chilly night was to leave her alone. Abruptly, coldly and cowardly. The second time we slept together, I didn't run. But look where that got me? Listening to Effy Stonem reclaiming her in as definite a manner as it is possible to demonstrate. But now I'm here again...this time in the bed she normally shares with the elegant Effy. I should feel guilty, ashamed at cheating on Cook and making Emily cheat on her own partner. But strangely...for me at least, given that I always embrace guilt like a lover...I don't. In fact it feels like I've come home. Which is ridiculous on all sorts of levels. I AM cheating. Emily is too. So why does it feel like my whole life has been leading up to this point?

She stirs in her sleep. Something else I know about Emily Fitch. When I wake up and start worrying, she seems to sense it. She turns in my arms, her dark hair over her eyes and her voice slurred with tiredness.

"N….Naomi? What's wrong?"

My mouth opens to utter a platitude...a lie... then I think about all the other lies I've told in my life. Both to her and about her, so instead I look into those irresistible brown eyes I have obsessed over too many lonely nights to think of and clear my throat. Time for the truth Naomi.

OK, she already knows all my bluster about never wanting to see her again is just that...bluster. But despite the temptation to just give in, kiss her parted lips and make love to her yet again (I lost count last night, but it was certainly more than three times) I take a calming breath and speak.

"What are we going to do now Emily?" I say, noticing the tremble in my voice before her expression tells me she has too.

Emily pulls her arm out from under herself, then uses both hands to stroke my cheeks. It wasn't until she did that I realised I had tears on them. A sob choked in my throat as she stared at me. She leans forward and kisses me tenderly. Not a kiss that is supposed to lead to anything, more reassurance that she is real and right there with me.

"Anything we want Naoms...anything we want" she says huskily and I fall in love with her voice all over again. How could I have been so stupid as to pretend I could ever love anyone else? She only has to say a word and I fall again.

"B...but what about Effy and C...Cook" I stutter, tears now beginning to fall quicker as she wraps her arms round me and squeezes. A Fitch hug...how I've missed those too.

"I know" she breathes into my ear, making me shudder. "It's shit that we'll have to hurt them both...but I _can't_ be without you again...not after this..."

I nod against her smooth shoulder, kissing its silken perfection as she hugs me again. The world may be going to utter shit, but here, now? In Emily's arms I can pretend to be brave for her...can't I?

"Me either" I say, hugging her back fiercely "I tried to pretend, make it go away, but I can't...I _won't_..."

"Shhh..." she whispers "We're gonna have to deal with it all...but not here, not right now...can't we just..."

Instead of saying anything else, her knee slides between my thighs and presses against me gently. The groan I let out has nothing to do with pain. Incredibly, even though we seemed to have made love endlessly before falling asleep, I feel a surge of heat where her thigh is pressing against me and my hips jerk in response. I want her again...maybe more than ever. I pull her face to meet mine and kiss her hungrily. Emily sighs into my mouth and rubs that clever thigh against me again. I groan hoarsely, the heat between my legs flaring. The time for words is over...for the time being. As I start to make my way down her body, claiming soft breasts and hard nipples with my mouth, she arches into me and her legs fall apart. Surrender, I think they call it.

My lack of experience doesn't seem to be a problem any more. As my mouth closes over her liquid heat, Emily bucks upwards and scrabbles in my hair with her hands.

"Oh fuck Naoms...so good...oh **Jesus**... _yes_ …."

We haven't spoken the L word yet...but its hanging there, like a brilliant beacon above our naked bodies.

I push any negative thoughts away and concentrate on making my girl very _very_ happy.

XXX

Cook

"Fucking hell Eff...not here...someone might…." then I abruptly stop complaining about discovery as Effy does that clever thing with her stud pierced tongue. Suddenly the possibility of being caught receiving oral sex in my parked car doesn't seem that bad. She's on a mission to make this last few hours of our stolen weekend memorable...so what's a guy supposed to do when the blow job queen of the UK is in this kind of mood?

I rest my head on the seat back and let her do her thing. Elizabeth Stonem only gives good sex. I've discovered that all over again this weekend.

Ten delicious minutes later, after I groan my release and push her head down as far as I dare while she thirstily finishes the job, she finally straightens up, takes a swig of my open vodka bottle and grins up at me cheekily.

"Good then?"

"Stop fishing Stonem" I say, still trying to catch my breath "you know exactly how good it was"

I wasn't lying.

This weekend was supposed to be a 'business' trip. A delivery of just over £10,000 in used notes to a back street address in Clayton, one of Manchester's scummier suburbs. Just another anonymous red brick terraced house with no front porch and kitchen appliances as garden furniture. These streets used to throng with working men and women. The men dressed shabbily in hand me down clothes, leaving the houses at silly o clock to line up outside some factory or other for a long and exhausting shift. The women herding small children to school before beginning the household chores. Maybe sparing a few minutes to gossip with identical neighbours while they scrupulously scrub the front door step.

Not any more. With the Thatcher obliteration of manufacturing in the North, most of the men remain stubbornly unemployed. Maybe doing the odd bit of untaxed private work between signing on at the laughably named JobCentre Plus. Some wag had overwritten the green sign over the local office, substituting Minus for plus. I make them about right. With unemployment way over the national average and a Conservative government bent on finishing the job the Wicked Witch started, opportunities for honest work are as rare as rocking horse shit.

No, now the primary employer in this area is er... _import/export_...as it were. Ships arriving in Liverpool with legitimate cargo also carried smaller packages with a value way in excess of the legal things listed on the manifest. Then a smaller boat or barge makes its way down the Manchester Ship Canal. Customs and Police are bribed and threatened to look the other way. Those small packages get separated into even smaller ones and distributed late at night to houses like the one I had taken Effy to on Friday.

Like I said, it was _supposed_ to be a business trip. The 10 grand swapped for fifteen of those palm sized plastic bags. Then locked into the special compartment under the boot of my Gti. Special because even drug dogs can be fooled. Fooled by the potent curry powder which lines the hidden compartment.

Anyway...given that I let Effy persuade me that the cure to our misery after our partners decided we were their least favourite persons, was to leave them to it and sneak away for the long weekend...the trip turned out to be more pleasure than business.

A lot more pleasure actually.

Now I've fucked Effy Stonem multiple times in the past. She was famously the best shag in Bristol bar none when she was at college. Poor Freddie got a taste before he lost the plot, but it was always me she came back to in the end. Until Emily Fitch got her sexy claws into her that is. I thought I was set to keep hold of Ms Stonem for the duration. Emily was all google eyes around the cool and aloof Naomi Campbell, and though I'm no expert at lesbian relationships, I could see the blonde brainbox was smitten too.

But it all went pear shaped when Naomi pissed off to Cyprus in the summer holidays. I had a little local difficulty too, after head butting some loser at a party and got pinched. After a week or two on remand at that wonderful hotel HMP Bristol, I finally got out to find the landscape had changed for ever.

Before that buttoned up fucker Blood expelled me for good, I watched Effy reel in Emily Fitch like a well hooked fish. My suggestions that she let me watch were met with contempt by both sides and within a week or so of Naomi disappearing, they were joined at the fucking hip. And probably several other places….I nearly wore my dick out, imagining what my ex and Naomi's got up to alone in Effy's bedroom. Proper frustrating, I can tell you. I even resorted to shagging Freddies sister again, just to relieve the frustration. Karen could always be relied on to give a guy a good time. She made out she loathed me...in public anyway... but when Freddie was away that summer, we shagged every night in his shed like it was about to be made illegal. There was a lot more than ass to ass contact going on.

But she was a poor substitute for Effy's skills. Karen had enthusiasm on her side, but Effy was a proper dirty cow...up for anything. You don't find that on every street corner. So I chanced my arm with the newly arrived from the Mediterranean Naomi Campbell. Fresh from her self imposed exile in olive oil land.

I nearly laughed out loud when I saw her face, the day she got back to college and spotted Emily and Effy snogging by the lockers. Everyone else had sort of got used to the free lesbian show, but it must have been a hell of a shock to Miss Campbell.

It took nearly three weeks, but I got her in the end. Effy and Emily showed no sign of getting fed up with each other and I just needed place and opportunity. A deserted classroom and a bit of sweet talk...then the Campbell knickers found their way into my pocket and my dick into the sweet dampness I had been craving since the first day I set eyes on her at Roundview.

She might not have been anything like as dirty as Effy Stonem or willing as Karen McClair in the sack, but forbidden fruit has an addictive flavour all of its own.

So we did it again at a party...and again in her room. I knew she was really just blotting out the reality of Emily moving on, but it was fun while it lasted. Which, to both our amazement, is right up until now.

Once Emily found out I was boning Naomi semi regularly, she completely blanked her. The lines were drawn and never crossed again...until now that is.

I think both Effy and I know that us getting cosy again is like juggling warm high explosives, but I was never gonna say no to another piece of Stonem pie, was I? When she suggested we go away for the weekend, making out to Emily that she was on a trip with Anthea, I couldn't see further than the end of my dick...but then that's a failing I've always had.

So we did the cash/gear swap in that grubby terraced house, did a quick getaway before some little hoodie made off with my alloys and booked into the Piccadilly Hotel in the city centre. I was intending to show her some of the clubs I had got used to hanging out in on my trips up here. But we almost never left the fucking room. Fucking room...yeah, that's a good description. If I'd forgotten how dirty Effy could be, I was reacquainted with the reality fast. _Nothing_ was off limits. I might have understood her getting fed up with a pussy only diet, but nothing prepared me for the intensity of her need to get shagged quite so much. She was a regular sex fiend.

...is a regular sex fiend.

Right now, after draining me so well I can't believe I'll get another erection this side of Christmas, she decides she still hasn't finished with little Cookie.

She leans back on the seat, which I lowered before she started used that talented mouth and grins at me, slowly unbuttoning her Levi's. My dick gives a twitch, even though it should be sleeping soundly now and I raise my eyebrows.

"What?" she smirks "Giving up already Cook? _You_ might be happy, but I need..."

She slips a hand below the waist band of those denims and I see her fingers moving steadily under the thick blue cotton "...something more?"

"Fucking hell Eff...give a guy a few minutes grace" I groan, but then she cups one of those small but perfectly formed tits with her other hand and grins again.

"If you're a very good boy...and use that tongue for something better than complaining...I might just let you put little Cook somewhere else..."

My eyes went wide at that exotic promise.

I didn't need a diagram. Effy is one of those rare females who consider ALL points of entry fair game. A guy doesn't get may offers like that (especially at Chez Cook I might add)

XXX

Half an hour later, we're walking into a pub. Me with a pleasant ache in my crotch, Effy a bit more gingerly. Turns out anal sex in a car is physically pretty difficult. I do love a game girl though….proper trooper, our Eff.

"Drink?" I say, trying to keep the smug smirk off my face. I might be going back to my own place and the strong chance of a cold shoulder in bed again, but the memory of Effy's half pained, half ecstatic cries in that cramped Golf will do me for a week or so. The old wank bank has more than been topped up.

"Vodka, double, straight….big boy" she answers with a smirk of her own. Half the guys in the pub...the ones still young enough to get morning wood, do a double take at her. She perfected the 'just shagged' look ages ago. They don't know its not fake this time, but I do. She pops off to the ladies to make herself look even more sexy and I do my duty and line up three doubles each on the bar. The £50 pound note I pass the barmaid just about covers the 6 drinks at London prices and I wince internally at how fucking ridiculous the prices are up here, but what the hell...I just earned a cool £2k for doing the run...fifty was neither here nor there, was it?

I settled into a booth at the back and sank a crafty pint of lager while I waited for Effy to come back. Taking my phone out, I took it off silent and scanned my messages. Nothing from Naomi, but I wasn't expecting one. She usually needs a good week to start talking to me again after I've fucked up. I knew I would have to be the one to make the first move. It was still early afternoon...shagging Effy in that car park was a distraction, but I still had to make the drop at my employers by 6. The car was parked up in a lock up round the corner now, the bag of goodies at my feet. A few voddies, maybe a last snog and grope with Effy, then I would have to face the music at home. Just as well my bosses 'office' is on the way. I don't much like the idea of walking around for too long with £10k of pure marching powder in a holdall. Too many fucking nosy coppers...some with guns too. Bags and rucksacks are a magnet for the boys in blue nowadays.

I stared at my phone for a bit longer as I sipped my beer. Better a call than a text, I thought. At least I'll know she's at home. Some twat in the corner chose that moment to press play on _Sweet Child O Mine_ on the music machine. I don't mind a bit of Slash, but maybe not when I'm just about to grovel to my other half? I cupped the phone to my ear and speed dialled Naomi's number.

As it rang, I could see Effy coming out of the bogs with her own phone to her ear. Like me she winced at the volume of the music, but carried on talking anyway. Obviously checking in with Emily then.

XXX

Naomi

I cut Cook off after a few words. Relief was flooding through me when he told me he would be an hour at least. An hour to get dressed and back to my own place. Emily was up and about already. Her phone had rung just as we were about to go into another clinch, so my frustration at not having her again was tempered by guilt. Bad enough I was in her and Effy's bed. Worse by a big margin if I was actually feeling her up at the time?

Emily was still talking, but she sounded calm, so hopefully Effy was calling from the airport. Time to wash that bedding and air the room. Sex hung in the air heavily. I knew we would have to deal with all this soon, but right now, we needed to make some space between us.

"She's on her way" Emily said with a sad look "Says she's having a drink first. I think we have half an hour babe?"

I nodded.

"Yeah...Cook too...I know he was in a pub...fucking Guns and Roses blasting out...could hardly hear him"

Emily looked at me strangely.

"What did you say?" she asked quietly

"Huh?" I said, gathering up everything beside the bed that might give us away "Guns and Roses...fucking Sweet Child O Mine?... One of Cooks favourites, the sad loser?".

Emily sat down heavily beside me and sighed.

"Funny that...the exact same thing was playing when I spoke to Effy?"

XXX

 **OK, short but at least I tried. Feel free to call it shit...I wouldn't be surprised or offended.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi guys (peeks from behind fingers). Sorry for the ridiculous delay in updating. But stuff happens, yeah? Slowly getting back to some sort of normality, but life really sucks sometimes. Anyhow, apologies all round. Things are definitely not back to normal, but writing this is at least filling my head with something other than doom and gloom, so hopefully you will sort of enjoy this. I'm afraid I can't say the same about our favourite couple though. Cook and Effy have their dark secrets, but so do our Naomily. Ordure? Meet oscillating blades.**

 **Onwards then.**

Emily

When Effy got back from her 'Paris' trip, I realised it would be hard to fake normality. Like really hard. I've _cheated_ on my girlfriend...multiple times actually over the weekend. With my significant ex too. The ex that lives _right_ next door and is cohabiting with one of our oldest friends from college. Bad enough? Yep. That old Emily Fitch guilt mode is alive and well. I cheated, end of. And the worst thing about it is that I have no regrets about the cheating bit whatsoever. None.

I should have. Anyone normal would be squirming with self disgust by now. But how can I? Sleeping with Naomi again was like coming home. Not just the shagging bit either. The waking up, making love over and over, then lazing about in my apartment with her like we were a proper couple. That bit was eerily familiar too, even though I've never actually lived with Naomi before. The person I have _actually_ built a life with is currently sleeping alone in our bedroom at the moment. Says she's knackered after the flight from France. A fucking one hour flight from Paris? Even if I wasn't convinced _that_ was a crock of shit, knowing that there is definitely something going on between her and Cook makes it even less convincing. Guns and Roses never lie, right?

I mean, how am I supposed to feel about all this? _I_ cheated. But I think...no I _know_ Effy has too. Its so totally fucked up, I have no idea how I'm supposed to deal with it. Naomi's physical imprint is all over me and this place, even though I scrubbed myself obsessively in the shower before cleaning the apartment so thoroughly it was like an operating theatre when Effy finally showed up. I was nearly sick in my mouth when I finally heard her key in the lock. My eyes were still frantically scanning the flat for any forgotten evidence of my sins even as she alked into the lounge.

But she just breezed in as per, kissed me lightly on the lips and threw her battered leather overnight bag on the couch.

"Fucking planes...exhausted Ems...gonna get a few hours kip in, K?" she said airily, stroking my arm with her cool fingers as she passed on her way to the bedroom. A room which had been even more forensically cleansed than the rest of the place. Sheets and pillowcases changed, the 'Naomi' ones thrown into the washing machine on a hot wash. Mattress turned end over end and flipped. Even the metal headboard wiped down with an aromatic citrus cleaner three times ( _just_ in case…I distinctly remember holding on to it with my sweaty hands, kneeling over Naomi's upturned face at one point in the past 48 hours, watching with fascination as she expertly tongued me to yet another shattering climax). So I was pretty sure not a trace of my treachery remained on any surface. But the guilt in my heart is impossible to remove with domestic cleaners. When the bedroom door closed behind Effy, I realised with a start I hadn't taken an inward breath since she walked in. I stood there looking at the mute bedroom door, emotions washing over me like waves. Guilt? Yeah, already made that point...but _anger_ too. I have no doubt my partner was cheating on me too this weekend. So how am I supposed to deal with that? Both of us unfaithful, both of us hiding secrets.

Part of me wanted to fling open the bedroom door, wake Effy up from her fake jet lag and confess my sins. Its my normal process. Can't keep a secret to save my life. But this is huge….and life changing and just... heart breaking stuff. What if her weekend with Cook (because I'm convinced thats what just happened) was just a casual Effy type fling, a random echo of shags past...so unlike my own bit of treachery with Naomi. That is definitely _not_ just a fling. At least on my side.

Speaking of Naomi, my ex will be dealing with a newly returned Cook right now, and that burns too. What if she regrets what happened between us, despite what we said to each other as I reluctantly watched her leave my apartment? What if Cook reclaims his 'blondie' in the same way Effy reclaimed me after the last little indiscretion? I pushed that evil thought away from me...it made me physically nauseous to even imagine a man, any man inside her body again after what we shared this weekend. Another wave of guilt washed over me as I remembered how hurt Naomi had been, knowing I willingly slept with Effy hours after we'd made love. Now I knew how she must have felt. I dug my fingernails into my palms to calm me down. My feet had almost walked me to the door of the apartment then… I was a second away from marching down the hallway to interrupt their imagined passionate reunion.

But she wouldn't shag him _now_...would she? Her last words to me still echoed in my head.

"Whatever happens Em...I'm yours and you're mine, right? I'm going to tell Cook we're finished. I can't pretend to love him now I know what love really feels like again. I couldn't give a fuck if he actually _has_ spent the weekend shagging Effy. Maybe thats the best thing that could happen...maybe this was meant to be. I found you again and I'm not letting you go...right?"

I nodded so hard, my head spun. I might not be ready to kick Effy into touch quite as brutally as Naomi was about to do to Cook, but things will never be the same for any of us now.

"Lets just let the dust settle a bit…?" I said in reply, knowing it sounded weak as I said it "...I have no intention of changing my mind either, even if nothing happened between them this weekend. I love _you_ Naoms….and we _will_ be together...I promise"

I saw the small flicker of unease in her eyes when I didn't mirror her determined promise, but like I said...I'm weaker than her, always have been. I come across as strong, but inside I'm a quivering jelly. I know I will have to finish it with Effy, but she's not a simple creature like Cook. Elizabeth Stonem is way tougher and more complex. She's always known how to disarm me in an argument too. I'll need all my determination and maybe a bit of borrowed Katie Fitch bull headedness to pull this one off.

So now I'm quietly shitting myself at the hurricane we've unleashed.

And right now I'm sitting on my ultra clean leather couch with a cold cup of coffee, looking out of the window at the grey London skyline, wondering what the _hell_ happens next.

XXX

Naomi

It was bad. I mean really bad. Cook turned up just as I pulled up some grey jogging bottoms and ran nervous fingers through my still wet hair. I meant to get back sooner, have a long soak, then dress properly before facing him. But it was so hard to leave Emily, nervous as she obviously was about Effy's imminent arrival. Understandable I guess. I wasn't looking forward to confronting Cook, but Effy Stonem is way harder to prepare for. What if she just denied anything was going on with Cook and wanted to have a little reunion shag with my 'new' lover? My stomach churned at the prospect of Effy taking Emily to bed again. The echoes of Em's orgasmic cries sounded faintly in my brain. It was no comfort to tell myself that it was me who produced them so recently. The memory of Effy too making her cry out in delight was still fresh... So I lingered until I really had to leave.

Which left me no time to get ready. Just a few minutes to shower under harshly hot water then throw on something casual. Unlike Emily, I wasn't worried about Cook getting amorous the moment he arrived back. For one thing, he knew he was still in the doghouse. It normally took a week at least for me to forgive him enough to have him in my bed. But I'm no good at being noble either. The fact that I've been cheating with Emily was weighing on my conscience alright. But knowing that he too was playing away this weekend made me strangely more angry than guilty. As if he and Effy had robbed me of my well earned remorse.

So I stupidly decided on attack as the best defence.

He strode into the kitchen as I was boiling the kettle. I turned as he came in. The same old cheeky smile...the same cocky exterior. For some reason it inflamed my sense of injustice. Don't ask me why.

"Good time in Manchester?" I said coldly, folding my arms defensively and glaring at his fading smile.

"Yeah babes...normal shit...pick up the package, couple a nights in a posh hotel to make it look like a business trip, then back here to dirty old London….delivery made, cash burning a hole in my pocket as usual?"

He threw his hands wide as if to show he had nothing else to reveal.

"Why the glum face then Naomikins?" he tried again "no hug for old Cookie...I've missed that warm smile?"

His smirk was what did it. As if I didn't know what sort of trip he'd actually been on. I bet the 'business' part of it lasted less than 2 hours. I suspect he spent the rest of it with his decorated todger inside various parts of Miss Stonems anatomy. She never was particularly fussy about where erections ended up. Or so the Roundview legends went. Proper Martini girl, our Effy. Access all areas guaranteed.

I scowled at his attempt at witty sarcasm. Never Cook's strong point. I carried on with the patented Campbell scowl and walked towards him. I saw him flinch slightly as I got close.

"Cut the crap Cook. You might have gone up there to do the usual sordid drugs deal...that much is a given. But we both know what you've actually been doing most of the weekend. Reacquainting your ever hopeful dick with the inside of Effy's available orifices…. _all_ of them. You really need to be more careful about when and where you call in. Emily was right here when you did...she came over to try to make the peace after you two fucked up the other night so royally...and strangely enough, she got a call from Effy at the same time...both still Guns and Roses fans then _babe_?..."

He flinched again at that. I know Cook very well, and I know that look in his eyes. The game was up and he knew it. But he never goes down without a fight...I should know that well enough too. His brain, which when he takes the trouble to use it is a lot sharper than he lets on most of the time, clicked into smart mode. I saw the lights go on and realised he'd seen an out.

"Right…." he drawled slowly "So little red was over here...by complete coincidence, yeah? Are you seriously saying you two were just having a coffee and reminiscing about college days babe? Coz I think we both know that would _never_ happen. You two, a place with a bed and no one to disturb you...you've shagged her this weekend, ain't you?"

I tried...like really tried. Normally I can mask my emotions pretty well. With Cook, it works most times. But the word Emily is like some sort of antidote to my artificial venom. It disables the carefully constructed shield I hide behind. I saw the widening of his eyes as my own guiltily betrayed me. Even as I recovered my poise, I saw his mouth draw into a thin hard line.

"Fucking knew it" he breathed, his fists clenching beside him. "Making out this is all about me and Effy...but it's not, is it? You and little miss not so innocent have been fucking up a storm while I've been away...go on...deny it Naomi?"

Suddenly, my attack had crumbled. My strategy lay in tatters. The fact that Cook and Effy had certainly been at it all weekend was irrelevant now. Because those two could always separate sex from love. They were experts. Natural predators. Me and Emily?...Slaves to our hearts. And Cook, while he stood there daring me to lie, knew it. His expression went from shock through anger, then hurt. His shoulders slumped and he looked away from my face for a second. For some strange reason the fact the he'd cheated too ceased to matter to me. That was just Cook being Cook. There had been other indiscretions in the past 3 years...he would never be that faithful to me, I knew it from the first time we slept together. I was always a reluctant returner to cock...so I was never gonna be able to keep him totally happy in the sack. But mostly I pretended to ignore the occasional lost ear ring in his car, or that often replaced spare pack of condoms in the glove box. As long as I didn't have to meet them in person, or have my nose rubbed in it, I could accept him shagging randoms from time to time. If I was honest, which is a rarity nowadays, it meant I could keep my own reservations about living with a guy to a minimum. Him satisfying his needs elsewhere meant I didn't have to. Every ones a winner, yeah?

Except all I could see around me now was losers. Cook was still just standing there, waiting for me to deny it, which I couldn't. We both knew what had just happened. The thin dome of normality we kept over our 'relationship' was cracked wide open. OK, he'd slept with Emily's lover. But I'd slept with _Emily_ and that was a whole new ball game. The L word was hovering above us like neon. Catastrophic events were just about to happen.

"Right" he sighed sadly as I stood there with a guilty expression on my face "...its all fucked then babe, yeah? You and Emily...sort of puts a Cookie dirty weekend in perspective...poor fucking me...poor fucking Effy...never stood a chance?"

I nodded dumbly...what else could I do?

He didn't looked at me again. My eyes brimmed with tears of guilt and regret as I heard him turn away. The door to the kitchen banged hard as he left and the front door echoed it a couple of moments later. When I eventually dried my eyes and went out into the hall, I saw his travel bag had gone too.

What the fuck do I do now, I thought bleakly? Cook gone, Emily back in her apartment with Effy and me standing alone here.

"Fucking cosmic" I sighed, slipping down the wall to sit on the carpet by the front door.

XXX

Emily

She's still 'sleeping' which we're both using as a metaphor for what she's actually doing. She might be exhausted, but its not because of some lengthy flight. Its the sleep of the truly exhausted. I've only slept with one guy, if you can count JJ as that. From what I remember it was short, vaguely uncomfortable and unsatisfying. But knowing the reputation of Cook and Effy, I'm guessing the weekend was a total shag fest. She had the reputation at college of being a very accommodating partner to her male consorts and I'd occasionally overheard some Health and Beauty student or other extolling the athletic prowess of James Cook in bed. God, I even had to listen to Pandora telling Effy in excruciating detail once how Cook kept her up all night during their brief fling. The fact that Effy already knew how exuberant Cook could be with a naked girl was lost on Panda of course….the girl born without an off switch.

So I suppose I should feel a little jealous here...after all, my girlfriend had all but confirmed the fact that she'd spent the weekend shagging with her ex. But then, so had I. And our little hook up had an added ingredient. Love.

Such a small word. But the biggest one in the dictionary.

I stopped pretending to concentrate on the evening Metro Effy had tossed onto the counter when she passed me coming in. The bedroom door was still firmly closed, so the apartment was silent. Sighing in resignation, because whatever I was about to tell Effy would have to wait, I picked up my iPhone and slipped into the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I sat on the closed toilet seat and set the phone to silent, even the keypad. On the off chance that Effy slept off her sex marathon sooner than I expected, at least she wouldn't hear what I was about to do.

Pulling Naomi's name from my contact list, I thumbed a quick text. It had been an hour now, so Cook might not be even there any more. My heart thumped as I realised that she might have done the dirty deed already, while I was sitting here crapping myself at the prospect of doing the same.

" _Hey hows it going x?"_

I left it like that in case my message was seen by unfriendly eyes. The answer came quickly enough.

" _Grim. Cook knows. He's fucked off so I'm sitting here alone with a bottle of brandy fancy joining me... assuming Effy knows too? XX"_

I shook my head stupidly. No she didn't know, so only half the job was done. I knew Naomi would be angry at the answer, but I owed her the truth.

" _Effy went straight to bed when she got in. Never gave me the chance to talk to her. Help? xxx"_

There was a long wait for the answer, I died a thousand deaths waiting for it.

" _Right. Well let me know when you pluck up the courage Emily. I'm, sitting here all alone having broken up with Cook. **Please** tell me I didn't do it all for **nothing**?"_

The absence of kisses just made the message even more curt. I knew I should have just barged into the bedroom and confessed to Effy, but I hadn't. And now Naomi was angry and disappointed in me. I'd let her down.

I took a deep breath and typed out a quick reply. Time to man up Emily.

" _I'm coming round to yours. I WILL tell her when she wakes up, promise. But right now I need you and that brandy? K? XXX"_

I didn't wait for the answer, just wiped my face with a damp flannel, opened the door and left the apartment. Before I did, I pinned a yellow post it note to the cork board in the hall, right where Effy would see it when she came out of the bedroom.

' _We need to talk Effy, Be back in a couple of hours'_

XXX

 **OK, shortish, I know but at least I'm updating again? Please say that's OK?**


	13. Chapter 13

**Back so soon? Yep, must have woken me up after that long delay. Life still sucks, but I'm getting slowly back into the rhythm of writing. Maybe watching the whole of Gen 2 again on _More4_ last weekend put the zing back into my enthusiasm for all things Skins? Anyway, seeing Naomi, Emily, Cook and Effy at their glorious best made me fall in love with those crazy kids all over again. Whether thats a good or bad thing, you decide.**

 **Anyway, things are about to get even more dramatic.**

Naomi

Sitting here alone...its almost peaceful in an odd way. If you discount the jangling cacophony of random thoughts crashing about in my brain like a drunken group of lodgers that is. The apartment itself is utterly silent. Not even the tick of a clock disturbs the profound lack of sound. It wasn't like this ten minutes ago. Emily had come round as promised and we drank the best part of a bottle of cheap Greek brandy between us. The sort of alcohol that lurks at the back of your reproduction vintage drinks cabinet for ages, undrunk and unloved. A souvenir from some long forgotten holiday to the Med. A last resort for trainee alcoholics to use in emergencies. I think normally I would have made a disgusted face at the first mouthful, then dragged myself down to Majestic for a bottle of decent memory obliterator.

But today it seemed appropriate. Cheap, coarse and available. Which is how I feel. Not that Emily added to that feeling of self loathing, far from it. Although she hadn't managed, either by design or opportunity (Or...my nasty inner voice whispered... _motive_ ), to tell Effy about the events of the weekend, she convinced me...as long as the brandy was flowing anyway...that she would, the instant Effy emerged from the bedroom in their apartment. I believed her then. Her kisses, hugs and the obvious look of sincerity in those big brown eyes convinced me that I hadn't just made the biggest mistake of my life for nothing. I'm not saying that if Emily hadn't moved in next door that Cook and I would have ended up staying together. No...too many things have been going wrong lately for that to be a realistic future for either of us.

But we might have staggered along for another few months.

Possibly.

I have to admit, I like the lifestyle Cook's unconventional employment provides. This apartment for one. The chances of me affording to live here on my wages are frankly nil. The mortgage, although nominally in my name, is paid for out of the £5000 cash every month Cook pulls in as the de facto happiness supplier for Canary Wharf. We only got the mortgage in the first place because one of Cooks regular weekly clients is a broker who pulled strings with another coke head at one of the less well known lenders on the island. The £45,000 deposit was Cooks too. That wasn't drug money...it was a pay off from his absent (and now late) mother. She died from an accidental overdose of marching powder at some up market art event in Amsterdam and luckily even her extravagant spending hadn't completely exhausted the Cook maternal bank accounts. After the dust had settled, Cook and Paddy, his younger brother, inherited over £75,000 each.

Paddy's share of the windfall had bought him a place at a posh public school in the Midlands, where the term fees were eye watering, but kept him out of trouble and well on his way to a 'proper' education. He comes back here on school holidays, which is the only time Cook stops full time dealing. He's determined to keep Paddy away from the lifestyle his elder brother has chosen. So far its working. But after this…?

So...with Cook no doubt out there getting so monumentally fucked up he may well forget his own name (I don't _know_ that for sure, but its his usual way of blotting out reality) its just little old me here now. Emily has gone back to face the music. Its been ages since she left me with a final lingering kiss, which just adds to my anxiety. I mean...it took about three minutes for me to give Cook the Spanish Archer. Why am _I_ still sitting here in limbo over an hour after Emily left? Jesus, Effy _must_ be awake by now? The doubts and insecurities I suffer from at the best of times are roaring at me as I sit here biting my lip. What if Effy talks her out of it? What if Emily herself has had second thoughts...what if...what _if_?

And, horrifically _w_ _hat_ if Effy just takes her to bed and reclaims her body and mind like before? I couldn't bear that. The sounds of Emily being pleasured by Effy last time are etched on my subconscious. She sounded exactly like she did when I shared a bed with her. Husky, excited...fucking _delirious_ with delight. It stabbed me like a long blade to think that someone else could make my Emily moan like that. I didn't have the right to hate Effy for it last time...but I do now...don't I?

Still I sat there. The effects of the brandy well gone. Just a residual nagging headache and a roiling in my gut from the harsh, neat spirit. I should get up and drink water, I thought numbly, but my legs refused to obey my mind. So I just sat some more, and stared out at the darkening sky.

XXX

Emily

" _Fuck off Ems...I'm still knackered. Whatever it is thats making you sound so guilty can wait. Knowing you, you forgot to cancel the milk or something...Jeez..can I just have another hour, babe?_ "

This from under the duvet.

I thought after spending a couple of hours at Naomi's trying to convince her that not telling Effy wasn't because I was a coward (although that is way too close to the truth to be comfortable for me) but rather down to Effy hogging the newly washed linen in 'our' bedroom still, this would be my moment. The brandy was foul, but Naomi needed to share it with someone, so I held my nose and helped her get the bottle down by ¾. My head felt like someone was walking around on it by the time I got back, so, with Effy still sleeping soundly, I took the chance to have another hot shower, drink about two litres of cool water, then scrub my teeth with the mintiest toothpaste I could find. It wasn't like a few hours ago, when I was doing all that to expunge any traces of my infidelity, but I wanted the stink of booze off me too. Two extra strong painkillers to fight off the promised evening hangover finished the job. I was hoping Eff would be awake and refreshed when I got out of the bathroom. No such luck. The bedroom door was still firmly closed and no sounds of movement carried to the hallway.

Fuck it, I thought. Naomi is working her way up to a full breakdown, waiting for me to carry out my side of the bargain. I dreaded disappointing her even more than I dreaded Effy's response to me effectively dumping her. Strangely enough, I wasn't even thinking about my girlfriends own infidelity. I was so wound up with guilt and anxiety about what I was about to do, her indiscretion seemed to fade into irrelevance.

I took a deep breath, opened the bedroom door and called my girlfriends name.

"Eff... _Eff_...I really need to speak to you...like now?"

Which is where we came in

"Fuck off Ems...I'm still knackered. Whatever it is thats making you sound so guilty can wait. Knowing you, you forgot to cancel the milk or something...Jeez..can it wait? Just another hour, babe?"

Well, it couldn't and I wasn't going to waste any more time. Taking another deep breath, I strode towards the bed, determined to drag that duvet off Effy and have the talk we absolutely needed to have.

Which is when I first heard the sirens outside...and then thundering feet in the hallway. Then breaking wood...a door?

Then Naomi's voice. Loud and frightened through the adjoining wall. Mixed with harsh male instructions to stay still, to put her hands above her head...that they were armed. _Armed_?

The cops…. Jesus. Impeccable timing?

Suddenly my confession wasn't the most dramatic thing happening in the block.

XXX

Naomi

I never even heard them arrive, so deep was I into my own thoughts. Once the door came in off its hinges, I finally made out the sirens down in the street and saw blue flashing lights illuminating the sky outside.

But then the world went mad. Harsh and strident voices...all mixed up. Blue uniforms and stupid peaked caps with Police written on them. As if it would be anyone else crashing in here with guns and torches.

I froze in my seat, a glass of the repulsive brandy half way to my lips. The extra half hour I'd just endured without hearing from Emily forced me to find solace again in the almost empty bottle. I was way past drunk by now. Not happy drunk….just numb and with ears ringing from the effects of the raw spirit.

I felt myself being propelled upwards, then turned and pushed face down onto the couch. Rough, gloved hands gripped my head and arms aggressively and another pair forced my hands behind my back and I felt the steely encirclement of my wrists with what I presumed were handcuffs.

It was this last indignity that broke my silence.

"What the _FUCK_!" I screamed into the cushion I was face down on. "Who the...what the fucking hell are you cunts doing?"

I kicked backwards and for a single moment, enjoyed the brief satisfaction of knowing that my heel had connected with something soft and squishy. Balls, I think is the word I was looking for. The whoosh of escaping air and a following anguished yelp told me my instincts were correct.

Again, the hands holding me tightened and I was roughly flipped over and thrown onto my back. The tight cuffs prevented me from cushioning my fall, so I winced in pain as my arms bent sideways under my body.

"Stay fucking _still_ bitch" The copper with the bad attitude and a fresh set of bruised balls hissed down at me. It wasn't a time for humour, but I grinned maliciously at his obvious discomfort.

"Fucking hurts...doesn't it?" I shouted at him. "Now you know how I feel...filth"

He lunged towards me and whatever he wanted to do, he could have, because I was proper hog tied, but another uniform, this one with three stripes on his blue sweater, stepped in and blocked him.

"Enough Andy" he said over his shoulder, sparing me a snarl as he did. "This little bitch is on her way to a nice cosy women's prison for about ten fucking years. By the time the bull dykes have had their fun with her in the showers, she'll be as meek as a lamb"

I knew he was trying to frighten me...but guess what? He did. I knew this whole thing had something to do with Cook. The cops don't come calling with guns and battering rams unless its drugs or terrorists, but all I could think of was that Emily would certainly have heard the fuckers break their way in here.

I was pulled to my feet then and the bastard with delicate balls and a permanent scowl pressed his face right up mine. The stink of recently swallowed burger made my already upset stomach twist in disgust. I moved my face to one side, but he gripped my chin in his hands and made me face him.

"Where are the drugs Naomi?" he asked and I actually laughed in his face. The only drugs in the apartment as far as I knew, were two supermarket packs of Paracetamol and my birth control pills. Neither of which were illegal.

"First...can I suggest a _very_ strong mouthwash?" I said sarcastically "your breath _stinks_ mate"

His eyed flickered with something like embarrassment as I heard a snicker from one of the other cops who were pulling the furniture apart and upending everything moveable. But he recovered quickly.

"Smart mouth" he hissed and pressed even closer "mouths like yours are only good for one thing usually...shame it will be a pussy only diet for you for the next decade"

"Suits me..." I said acidly..."...I always found tiny dicks very unsatisfying anyway….were you aware you have _really_ small hands?" I smirked, even though I was actually bricking it, I was fucked if this nasty bit of work was gonna make me cry. I was confident that there were no hard drugs in the place...which made me thankful I had made Cook promise me that when we first bought the place. They weren't gonna find what they were looking for here, but that just opened up a lot more questions. Where was Cook, and why, with the local plod squared away with monthly suitcases of bribe money, were this heavy mob turning our flat over _now_?

It didn't take long for them to bring me up to speed.

I was tossed back onto the couch again, bruising my elbow on the hardwood corner while they enjoyed themselves wrecking the joint. An hour and a half they searched. Every drawer and cupboard emptied, every piece of furniture upended and poked into. Every bit of our personal belongings searched and thrown onto a pile in the middle of the floor. They picked me up again once more, to give me a thorough pat down, but dressed in just underwear and jogging gear, it didn't take long. Nothing in my pockets and nothing else in the whole place.

Nada.

Not what they expected. I could see that from their faces.

Again I was pulled upright and this time the sergeant spoke.

"We have your boyfriend in custody Naomi. Possession with intent to supply class A drugs. Why don't you be smart and let us know where he keeps the rest of his stash? You're going down anyway sweetheart...tell us what you know now and maybe the judge will take it easy on you...you'll only get a couple of years as a first offender...out in 12 months if you behave...nice cushy open prison maybe?"

My smile this time was a bit wobblier now I knew Cook was the reason they were here now, but as I didn't actually know where he kept his stash, I couldn't help even if I wanted to...which I didn't of course. I might not be a dealer, but with most of the authorities in this post code taking back handers to look away, I have zero respect for agents of the state (as my mum would call them)

"I know nothing about drugs _officer_. Unless you count contraceptives. Search all you like. This place is clean and so am I...so if you think you're gonna frighten me into admitting something I haven't done...think again. If you've pulled James in for something, that's his problem. So if you've quite finished trashing my place...how about you let me out of these pretty bracelets and get the _fuck_ out of here?"

It was a vain hope...a bit of fragile bravery, but I had to try, didn't I? I knew Emily and Effy would be getting a ringside seat for this performance, so this was my attempt at damage limitation. Well, a girl has to hope, right?

No sale of course.

He grinned unpleasantly. I hate it when authority is so cocky.

""You've been watching too much CSI love. It doesn't work like that. You're coming down the station. A nice butch lady there is waiting with some surgical gloves to find out if you're as clean as you say...and then we can all sit down and have a nice chat about hard drugs and your major dealer boyfriend"

My heart sank then. The promise of a strip search was bad enough. I could only hope that the copper who got to do it was less of a perv that Officer Ronald MacDonald...but the thought of spending hours in a dreary police station interview room when I should be welcoming Emily back into my apartment was pretty crushing. I tried one more bit of bravado, just to put off the inevitable a while longer.

"Oh well..." I said with more confidence than I felt "...maybe I'll be luckier with the female cop than that nice Andy guy...I quite like a bit of female intimate searching now and again?"

'Andy' grimaced at my humour attempt, but in seconds I was being bundled out of the flat with my arms held behind me. I knew the neighbours would be craning their necks for a free show, but my eyes searched for just one face.

Two other cops were standing by the lifts, holding the doors open as we left my shattered home. I managed one long look at Emily, standing in the doorway of her apartment with big tears rolling down her pale face. To add to my misery, Effy was standing behind her, arms circling her waist. As I passed them I heard her stage whisper something to the girl I've just lost my heart to all over again.

"Bit of a lucky escape that Ems...we're _well_ out of all that shite?"

Emily shook her head even as her eyes pleaded with me, but the deliberate wink from Effy told me Miss Stonem had chalked up another major victory. As the lift doors closed and I looked at myself in the wall mirror, I had time to realise that she knew _all_ about this little circus in advance. And was enjoying it immensely.

Fuck fuck _fuck_. I thought grimly as the lift descended. Life? Thanks for the extra kick in the teeth, I really needed that.

 **OK, shortish, but I hope you agree its nice to get two updates in a week? More soon, with the aftermath of the raid and more of Effy's machinations are revealed. What a bitch**?


	14. Chapter 14

**OK then. Brief catch up… Cook AWOL but almost certainly in custody, Naomi ditto and in the local police station being questioned about her significant other's activities. Apartment wrecked by those wonderful considerate peace officers and oh...Emily back in the arms (maybe?) of Effy, who seems to know a lot more about the shocking raid than she really ought do. Dramatic enough for you? Hello…? Is there _anyone_ out there who cares? :)**

Naomi

I'm cold. Bloody cold. It's not even winter, but sitting on this wafer thin blue plastic mattress, which itself is resting on an ugly concrete bloody bed in just my joggers and sweatshirt, I'm _freezing_.

I know most of it is just delayed shock, but lets be honest, H.M. Constabulary are not _too_ bothered about the welfare of a suspected drug dealer's partner between interviews. I say interviews, but since I got here, I've spent most of the time in this small rectangular grey box, watching the sky gradually pale and lighten through a tiny, barred window six feet up the wall. The sounds of activity outside in the dim;ly lit corridor have increased in the last few minutes, so I'm hopeful _something_ will happen soon at least. I'm caught between terror at what that something actually turns out to be and hope, that as I wasn't in possession of anything worse than cheap holiday brandy, they might let me go soon.

The name 'Emily' crops up now and again in my feverish mind of course...OK, about every ten seconds actually. But its pointless trying to work out if she even cares about what happens to me now. I'm sure Effy has filled her in on what Cook really does for a living (it shouldn't have come as too much of a shock...Cook was the source of most of our youthful happy powder at Roundview after all)...but I suppose she had a right to expect that was just teenage over exuberance? Anyway, I have more pressing matters to deal with...like I'm busting for a pee and the stained metal loo in the corner is filled to the brim with a mixture of toilet paper and something so disgusting, I've avoided looking directly at it. I might be desperate, but I'm not planting the naked Campbell rear end over _that_.

So I got up, hugging myself to keep some sort of body warmth going and pressed the recessed bell by the door. I heard it go off somewhere distant but it was over five minutes before I heard the jangle of keys and footsteps in the corridor. I hoped it wasn't Irma Grese, as I've christened her. Last night, she was the delightful female officer who got the lucky ticket, searching my, err ...cavities... for hidden pharmaceuticals. Lets just say she was very diligent in her work. I can still smell those surgical gloves and feel her rough fingers probing about inside me. Standing against a wall, with my knickers on the floor, her right behind me breathing way too heavily for someone who was just going through the motions (stop it) was very embarrassing and uncomfortable. Worse because I knew there was nothing to find there. Much worse, because the last person to explore me so minutely was a certain small brunette who was quite a bit gentler, if equally thorough about it.

Anyway, pointless intimate search over, 'Irma' let me dress and accompanied me to this delightful hotel room. All facilities laid on, if you count concrete beds, blocked toilets and a window I can't see out of unless I lay on my back. Oh, and the added extra of a steel door with no handle on the inside. Just a square hatch that a grudging cup of tea was pushed through sometime after midnight. I drank it, even if it was just to get rid of the awful brandy aftertaste. Stewed it might be, but better than the godawful spirit I'd drunk too much of last night.

Anyway, enough about last night, the footsteps had got closer.

The plod outside didn't even open the hatch, just spoke through the shiny door.

" _What_?"

Charmed I'm sure I thought, but didn't say out loud. My priority was getting out of here and unlike with the delightful Andy last night, I saw no point in aggravating the other uniformed state servants. So I suppressed my natural inclination to rip him a new one and stepped over to the door.

"Excuse me officer...but the toilet in here was blocked by your last 'guest'...could I ask if I can use an outside loo please?"

Every word pained me. I wasn't used to being so polite to authority. A lifetime of my mums anti establishment conditioning was hard to overcome. But I needed a pee and the person outside held the key to that...literally.

"The detectives will be coming to interview you in about an hour Campbell...can't it wait?" the male voice said curtly.

I felt a bit of relief that Irma had gone off to other concentration camp duties, but I still needed to go...badly.

"Sorry..."I tried again "I've been holding it in for ages...I _really_ need to go"

I heard the annoyed sigh, even through the thick door.

"You'll have to wait until I get a female officer Campbell...I'll be back in a few minutes" he answered, then I heard his footsteps going away, keys clinking as he did.

I sighed heavily this time. Fuck, I _really_ needed to pee. Crossing my legs and sitting carefully back on the grim plastic mattress I picked up a thin grey blanket that smelled of something earthily dank and wrapped gingerly it round my shoulders. Better smelly than frozen, I thought bleakly, as my bladder complained some more.

It was more like ten minutes before footsteps finally returned. The lock grated as the key was inserted and then the door swung open. A female cop stared in at me. Younger than Irma, a lot younger and praise be, she actually smiled at me. After all the shit I had been through this past few hours, it was like a ray of sunshine and I found myself automatically smiling back. I saw her nose wrinkle at the smell coming from the toilet by the door and she frowned.

"Jesus...have you been in here all night, Naomi?"

I nodded. First name terms, that had to be good, right?

"Fucking night shift" she made a face of disgust..."...this cell should have been closed until the cleaners come in. Right, come with me to the toilets and after you've been, I'll put you in number 5...its for juveniles normally, so not quite so grim and definitely not as smelly?"

I could have cried right there. Someone being kind to me was almost too much to bear.

"Thanks?" I managed, choking on the word. She smiled again, a bit less warmly maybe, but still a smile. She must have been my age, maybe a year or two older. Shortish black hair and a face way too kind for her job.

"Come on then...before I change my mind" she said gruffly. Going back into institutional mode then, I thought wryly.

I followed her silently down the corridor, through a locked steel gate, which she opened and closed as we passed, then along another grey corridor. There were two toilets at the very end and I went straight into the one marked 'women' while she waited just outside. After I'd relieved myself, which was like fucking heaven, by the way, I used a small sink to wash my hands and face in hot water, suing the soap dispenser to lather up my hands. I felt better just for that. No chance of cleaning my teeth of course, but at least I could rinse my mouth out with cold water afterwards. I had the chance to look at myself in the faded mirror before I went back outside. Jesus I looked a mess. The only saving grace was the fact that I hadn't been wearing make up yesterday, so the astonished panda look was out. But my hair was tangled and all over the place. I just ran my fingers through it as best I could as I walked back to the corridor.

"Right" the woman police officer said "Number five then...CID will be in to see you at nine, which is less than an hour from now. Do you want some breakfast Naomi?"

My stomach grumbled at the mere mention of food...I'd not eaten anything for over 16 hours, but I was a bit wary about what I was likely to be given to eat in this rat hole, so I shook my head.

"Just toast and tea would be fine...errr?.." I said shakily. I didn't know her name and she didn't seem too keen to give it. Just the number on the blue epaulette on her white shirt identified her. 5676 then...

She raised her eyebrows and her mouth twisted.

"We don't go much for a la carte menu's here Campbell...but I'll see what I can do...Now, back to the cells, I'm afraid...oh...and there's a lawyer on her way here...one of the duty legal aid team I reckon. I take it you'll be happy to speak to her before you're interviewed?"

I nodded vigorously. A lawyer was very much what I wanted. I'd asked for one last night, but all I got was a five minute conversation with some duty drone on the phone. He just told me to sit tight (as if I had any option on that choice) and that one of his colleagues would be along in the morning when I was being interviewed.

Number five cell turned out to be much better,. No window, but bigger and with a proper metal bed with an actual human sized mattress and clean linen. Plus a chair and small table. The room was lit by a proper recessed light above, not the glaring fluorescent my last one had enjoyed. I thanked the copper, who just nodded as if her previous good nature had been a bit of a mistake, then left me. Still no handle on the inside of the door, but at least she propped the flap open so I could look out into the corridor. It felt a bit less claustrophobic and I began to feel marginally better than I had ten minutes ago.

Tea and toast was duly delivered inside five minutes by yet another woman policeman through the flap and as she left, she informed me that my solicitor was in the building. The buttered toast was cold, but the tea was hot and strong, with what tasted like half a dozen sugars in it. For once, I forgot my principles and drank it thirstily. Naomi Campbell could risk obesity for once, I thought as the tea did its job refreshing me no end.

It only seemed like a minute or too after I finished the tea and swallowed the last piece of semi burned toast before there were footsteps again and the sound of keys in the lock.

The door opened and a woman in her late twenties maybe, _very_ smart in what looked like an expensive blue suit over a crisp white top, came in. She wore stylish glasses and had her blonde hair up in a neat bun. I returned her bland smile with one of my own. I had a second to spare, which my brain stupidly used to tell me she was quite fit, in a buttoned up way, before I reminded myself that just because I'd recently returned to fancying girls, this was no time to practice my rusty gaydar.

""Naomi?" she said, her cornflower blue eyes looking curiously round the cell, before walking over to the single chair and sitting down without asking. I suppressed my natural instinct for sarcasm, just nodding instead of asking her who the fuck else she expected to meet in this police cell with my name on the door. There was a lot of anger inside me waiting to burst out at someone...at Cook for being a dickhead getting caught dealing, at Effy for having _something_ to do with me being here (not that I knew what she'd done yet) and lastly the brutes who had systematically wrecked my home, but that could all wait. Right now I needed friends, not more enemies.

"My name is Rebecca Wright. I'm going to be with you this morning when the police interview you. I understand that you were arrested last night on suspicion of possessing and or supplying quantity of class A drugs?" she said calmly.

I nodded quickly. It sounded worse somehow, coming from her "But I don't _take_...I mean I don't sell..." I began to protest, but she waved at me to stop talking, gesturing over her shoulder with her eyes towards the slightly ajar door.

"No need for denials at this stage Naomi...I'm here to get you out of here" she said in a voice so low I had to lean forwards to catch the words "...the purpose of the first police interview is to try to get you to confess to the charge...which _won't_ be happening...right?"

"Err...no, definitely not" I said uncertainly "But like I said I don't..."

"Yes, yes...I understand" she interrupted, meaning forwards herself, "but the police will try to engage you in innocent conversation first, which will quickly turn to actual interrogation if you respond. We _don't_ play that game. As I understand it, they have your...partner...James...Cook?" she looked up at me from her manilla file for confirmation "...in custody at another police station. He was arrested trying to sell cocaine to an undercover police officer. I'm afraid his situation is a lot worse than yours this morning Naomi. But anyway...I also understand that no drugs, or drug dealing paraphernalia was found at your apartment...or on your person...is that correct too?"

I nodded again.

"And they took a blood sample from me...and a DNA swab...they won't find anything in my body other than cheap Greek brandy..." I said firmly "I don't _take_ drugs"

That wasn't _exactly_ true...but it had been a while since I'd even had a toke, so I was confident my blood test would be clear.

Rebecca nodded.

"OK then...I think thats all we need for now. I have the details of your arrest and your personal ones here. When you're interviewed, it will be ' _n_ _o_ _c_ _omment'_ to every question, no matter how hard or easy they go at you... _got_ it?" Her eyes flashed fire at me as she emphasised the point. Fuck that was an attractive expression I thought, then dismissed it angrily. Since when did I start fancying anything in a skirt?

"But...but I'm innocent..shouldn't I just...err say that?..."

"No...absolutely _not_. First we get this over with. They'll try to get you to incriminate yourself, but they have absolutely nothing to tie you to James apart from your relationship. It's just a fishing expedition, trying to flush out more about his background and the whereabouts of his supplier. Frankly, if you're right about the test, you have absolutely nothing to worry about at all. But let me deal with them, its my job. Leave the talking to me, and you can be back home in fresh clothes by lunchtime, OK?"

Relief flooded through me at her words. Home….that sounded great. Apart from the fact, of course, that home was a train wreck and the only person I cared about (OK apart from Cook, who I still had enough affection left for to worry a little about his welfare) was one Emily Fitch, who was probably being 'consoled' by Elizabeth Stonem right now. And I knew just how diligently Effy took her consoling. I didn't _think_ Emily would be so easy to drag back into her partners bed this time, but three years is a long time. Long enough for Effy to get her claws dug in really deep. Specially if Emily now thinks I'm a big time drug dealer.

I heard a cough and realised I hadn't actually answered Rebecca, so I blushed at my daydreaming and just nodded in agreement. The little smirk she allowed herself made me pause. How much of my personal life did this attractive suit know anyway?

I was about to find out.

She got up and put the beige file she had been scanning back into her expensive briefcase. Gucci leather, I think. I wondered for a second how a solicitor on legal aid fees managed to buy a briefcase worth a grand before she snapped it closed and gave me a professional smile.

"Right then...I'm going to get a cup of drinkable coffee from somewhere, then I'll see you in the interview room., The drug squad are in the building I'm told, so it shouldn't be long. Try not to worry Naomi, its just procedure from here onwards?"

I gave her a weak smile and sat back on the mattress. Easy for her to say.

The door closed behind her and I reconciled myself to another long wait.

XXX

But Rebecca was as good as her word. I was brought to the interview room where two plain clothes cops in shirt sleeves were waiting. I was told to sit as my solicitor walked in behind me and sat down next to me. The tape machine was started up and after the long harsh tone of the machine ended, they started. Easy stuff at first, you know, name and address, the reason I was in custody etc. I just nodded at their first questions, but Rebecca whispered in my ear that it was OK to confirm who I was and where I lived at least, so I did.

Then they moved on to the meat in the sandwich. How long had I known Cook, what was the nature of our relationship (just as well that wasn't something I had to answer) and how much did I know about his employment (too fucking much, unfortunately). I waited until my solicitor nudged me before answering "no comment" to every one. It felt like I had been in there hours but in reality it was probably only 40 minutes. Once they knew I had been well instructed, they just kept asking the same things over and over. Finally, Rebecca interrupted.

"OK D.S. Gower, D C Morgan. My client has been advised to answer no comment because she has absolutely no involvement with drugs or narcotic dealing. We both know there is no evidence whatsoever to support her continued detention. My client has been in custody for 18 hours now. You _could_...if you were being particularly pedantic...hold her here for another 6 hours. But we both know you would not be allowed to extend her detention past that 24 hour period. So I suggest you release Miss Campbell on police bail, pending further enquiries. She is of course willing to return as required, should you have any new matters to put to her. So...can we terminate the interview now? I have here a prepared statement, which reiterates Miss Campbell's position in regard to the matters you have put to her"

My mouth opened and closed without sound as she passed over a sheet of paper to me. I scanned it and wondered when she had the time to get it all down so succinctly. But I guess that was her job. She passed me an expensive black Parker Duofold fountain pen, which I took with trembling hands and signed where she had indicated at the bottom of the single yellow legal sheet.

The next ten minutes or so were a blur. The tape was stopped and I was escorted back to cell five for a minute or so. Just long enough for me to wince at the clang of the door behind me. Then, seconds later it seemed, it opened again and I got my scruffy blue Sketchers back. I was walked to the front desk where I had been brought in last night. This time the desk sergeant was a bit more pleasant. I was processed rapidly, my purse and bag returned, then I was whisked out of the door.

I stood in the car park alone for a moment, just breathing in the free morning air. Something we take for granted in our everyday lives, but something I was determined to enjoy now. I heard footsteps and looked round half expecting a grim faced copper to tell me being released was just a mistake and handcuffing me all over again.

But it was Rebecca, clutching that upmarket briefcase and smiling brightly.

"Want a lift home Naomi?" she said and I could have kissed her...well maybe not. There was someone closer to home I wanted to kiss a whole lot more.

The journey home in Rebecca's compact Audi, was quick and comfortable. Very different to the way I had been transported to the police station. No cuffs digging painfully into my wrists. No grim faced uniforms glaring at me. No...this was much more like it.

I thought she would just drop me at the door of my block. I'd started to worry about what I would find when I got there. A smashed in front door and a whole bunch of nosy neighbours peering out at me. And thats without the small fact that I would have to buzz one of them to let me in the communal door. My keys were still on the bedside table, where I left them yesterday.

But Rebecca parked up and got out when I did. She reached into her case and produced some familiar keys from it. I goggled at that.

"How the fu..." I asked.

She just smiled sweetly and jiggled them in her hand.

"I couldn't say back there Naomi, but you have friends...or at least Cook has, and being his partner, you sort of inherit some of his nicer privileges?"

It all started to make sense now. The expensive suit, briefcase and ultra professionalism. This wasn't just some low paid legal aid brief. This was a retained solicitor. I'd never actually met Cook's boss, but I had a good idea who Rebecca worked for now…

Letting us in, she walked in front of me and called the lift. We went up to my floor in silence. Me mainly because I really couldn't think of anything useful to say.

Getting to my floor, we walked along the corridor. I expected to see a yawning gap where my front door had been. But instead there was a brand new and obviously expensive hardwood door, complete with shiny brass fittings. Better than our old one by far. Unlocking it, we went inside. Again, I was expecting Armageddon. But the whole place had been cleaned and tidied. No clothing on the floor, no broken furniture and no upturned drawers. It was as if last night had been a terrible nightmare. Even the windows had been opened slightly to let in some fresh air. Not a trace of what had been a war zone recently.

I turned to Rebecca with wide eyes. She grinned.

"I said you have friends Naomi, and I meant it" she smiled, "Max says hi and if you feel up to it...he'd like to call round for a chat at lunchtime?"

Something told me that wasn't an invitation I could refuse. The little I knew about Max Zimmer weren't the sort of things that make you sleep easy. I'd met him a couple of times, when Cook took me to one of his West End clubs, but I have an aversion to gangsters, even the friendly type. I had to put up with Cook's chosen profession, but associating with his flint eyed boss wasn't something I wanted to do that often. Too many memories of the nasty Johnny White back in Bristol.

So much for that, I thought miserably. The guy has just paid for a fancy lawyer and had my apartment sorted in the middle of the night. That sort of clout and favour needs repaying somehow. I had a nasty feeling I wouldn't like the invoice when it came in.

But Rebecca was suddenly all smiles. Gone was the hard shell she had shown in the police station.

"Dunno about you Naomi...but I could do with a proper coffee? The brew at the police station is foul. Why don't you have a hot shower and change into something less...smelly?" her nose wrinkled for dramatic effect and my initial reluctance to view her as anything but a paid stooge faded. I did need a shower to wash the stink of custody off me. So I forced a return smile and started to walk to the bathroom. Then I remembered... _Emily_.

"Uhh _shit_..there's someone I need to tell I'm back?" I said as Rebecca started to walk to the kitchen. She turned and stared at me expectantly.

I don't know why I thought I needed to explain, but I did anyway.

"Look Rebecca...I think you should know this. Me and Cook...well, we were on the outs, even before last night. The reason he was out there, getting trashed and being stupid, trying to deal coke to an off duty copper...well, its probably because I told him we were done?"

"So there's another guy?" she asked calmly..."does he live in this building too?"

I took a deep breath. I could lie, but I had the feeling anything I tried to fool her with wasn't likely to work. She had already proved how professional she was.

"Not a guy exactly..." I said haltingly

I saw the light go on in her brain.

"Uhh, right...a _woman_ then?" she asked

I flushed..this was not exactly how I planned on coming out.

"Yes...but its not just a new thing. Me and Emily...well we have history, going way back. She just moved into the block and...well, we bumped into each other...then one thing..."

"Led to another...I get the picture Naomi" Rebecca smiled "...its 2017...nothing too shocking about having feelings about another woman..."

I stared at her...was she saying?

She grinned again and nodded.

"Right first time. I'm gay too Naomi. But that has nothing to do with anything right now, has it? Right now...you still need that hot bath. Do yourself a favour. Clean up and put on something a bit smarter...remember Max is coming to lunch?...Emily will still be home when you knock later...and you'll make a better impression dressed up a bit?"

I shrugged. Although I wanted nothing more than to march straight round, I had no idea what I would find when I got there. It was almost mid day and she might be at work anyway. I decided to take Rebecca's advice and clean up.

"OK...are you alright to make coffee?" I said

"Sure...in fact I'm sticking around to update Max on the whole arrest thing. He has another brief trying to get Cook out on bail...but I have to be honest, he won't have it as easy as we did. Cook has form...not for drugs, but a bit of GBH when he was 17...and the law is certain there is still a big stash out there to find. He'll probably end up in Brixton on remand for a bit. But Cook knows the score. Now he's sobered up, he's bright enough to keep his mouth shut. Better all round, yeah?"

I didn't miss the implied threat in that sentence. Max Zimmer might have put his lawyers onto helping us and his minions to making the apartment habitable again, but there was a large dose of self preservation in his assistance. Keeping me and Cook happy and looked after was just good business. I was in his debt and that was an uncomfortable sensation.

But I let myself be guided into the bathroom. Once inside, I stripped quickly and dumped all my clothes into the wicker basket next to the sink. I was tempted to have a long bath, but I had no idea when this Max guy was going to show, so I settled for a _very_ hot shower.

Getting out clean and smelling a lot sweeter, I took a few minutes with the electric toothbrush and some minty toothpaste. My mouth felt instantly better. A gargle with mouthwash, then I wrapped a big fluffy towel round myself before unlocking the door and padding barefoot to the bedroom. I caught a glimpse of Rebecca in the hall mirror as I passed the kitchen. She was humming to herself and pouring coffee from the Gaggia. The aroma of the freshly made Colombian made my nose twitch. A small thing, a cup of good coffee, but something I'd been deprived of for what seemed a lot longer than 24 hours.

I changed into a simple, short black skirt over my new cream bra and knickers. A yellow and white top with a small scalloped lace collar, then my favourite jade necklace. Somehow, just wearing familiar things made tears well up in my eyes. I might have been ready to move on from Cook (and heterosexual relationships in general), but I got a definite twinge then, thinking about all the times I had changed in this room before going out with my boyfriend. He was an idiot most of the time...a loud, cheeky, occasionally obnoxious idiot...but he was _my_ idiot. Now he was locked up in a bleak cell because I'd broken his heart. Broken it for something that might already be gone.

I mopped my eyes with a handkerchief then applied some smoky eye make up. A touch of pale pink lippie and I was ready to face the world. Well, Rebecca and Max anyway. Emily would just have to wait. I just hoped she would be happy to see me.

When I got back into the lounge, Rebecca was standing by the window, a cup of coffee steaming beside her on the sill. Another full cup was on the coffee table. She was just ending a call on her mobile, so I hung back until she saw my reflection in the glass. She spun round and smiled at me.

"Wow... _you_ scrub up pretty well Miss Campbell" she chuckled, looking me up and down, which made me blush "...you look amazingly better than you did a couple of hours ago?"

I grinned back. Its amazing how a shower and change of clothes can brighten you up. And I might be newly out, but a compliment from an attractive lesbian wasn't exactly hard to take either. I might be (OK am) besotted with a certain tiny brunette, but a girl likes to get the odd compliment?

"Not difficult...I looked like a scarecrows girlfriend" I said sarcastically and we shared a chuckle this time.

"Right, well coffee is on the table...don't worry about lunch, Max is bringing some pastries from the deli?"

Sounded good to me. Although I could have murdered something more substantial, I sort of knew the pastries would do fine for now. The deli across the street was famous for just being fabulous. I knew Max would know that too.

After we'd drunk two cups of coffee and I was feeling a whole lot better inside and out, there was a knock at the door. I started to get up, but Rebecca waved me back into my seat.

"Let me" she said with a serious expression "...just in case its a curious neighbour or worse, the press?"

I subsided with a sigh. Maybe she was right...but.

"B..but, it might be Emily?" I said hopefully.

"If it is, I'll bring her straight in...but you know we have to have a proper chat with Max about where we go from here first, don't you Naomi?"

I knew that...I knew that Max was about to deliver his invoice for services rendered and I didn't want Emily involved any more than she already was, so I nodded weakly.

"Yeah...I suppose you're right. But if it IS Emily…?"

Rebecca smiled again.

"Then in she comes!" she laughed "...can't keep the love of your life out in the cold, can we?"

I wish I could say that made me feel better. Love of my life? Well, I certainly think Emily qualifies for that title, but things could hardly be shakier on that front, now could they?

It wasn't Emily, but a letter from a courier. I wrinkled my brow in puzzlement. Who would be sending me couriered notes? I opened the thick envelope with fingers that fumbled in their haste to see inside.

Just a single sheet of expensive paper with a couple of lines of flowing script.

 _Naomi_

 _Have taken Emily to France for a few days. Yes, really France this time. Sorry about Cook, but he always was a bad boy, wasn't he? Just a matter of time really. Anyway, I'm sure you'll be out by now and back at home. I'll take care of Emily from now on. But thanks anyway?_

 _Effy_

 _PS: She's **mine** Naomi._

The note dropped from my fingers as cold numbness spread through me. Dumped again, I thought miserably. Life shits on me from a great height as per.

Rebecca picked up the letter from the floor and scanned it quickly as I stared into space, paralysed by my misery.

"Oh" she said sympathetically

I suppose there wasn't much more to say, was there?

XXX

 **OK, longer chapter with a fair bit of angst for you to 'enjoy'**

 **If I get reviews (hint) I might even get another chapter up early this week...just saying like?**

 **Thanks for popping by.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey. Back again, for better or worse, depending on whether you actually enjoy what I write...which is debatable, I know. As an antidote to my crap, you _are_ reading the latest from _mswitzend_ and _marsupial1_ _9_ _74_ , aren't you? If not you really should. Better than my ramblings by far. Even if ' _Walls_ ' is twisting my insides up like an inexperienced cardio thoracic F1… (look it up!) Emily with a...boyfriend...and not just any old boyfriend either. One that she actually cares about (even loves?), instead of the normal FF fake beard we have all read about in the past. God, she's making me suffer for my art! But I'm sticking with it because she loves Naomily as much as I do. So fingers crossed for a happy outcome…eventually.**

 **But anyway, on with my story. Naomi back home, complete with minder. Emily in Paris? And dear Effy manipulating everything around her like a world class puppeteer. What could possible go right?**

Emily

That was fucking close I thought, ducking behind a spinner display of European phrase books. The assistant gave me another one of her patented sideways glances, but thats the least of my worries. My big problem isn't an over made up duty free salesgirl but my actual girlfriend. (as opposed to the girlfriend I should be with right now, instead of being in Terminal 5, on my way to Paris).

How did I get here? You might well ask. After the shocking experience of seeing several burly cops smash their way into Naomi and Cook's apartment, then being informed by Effy that it was almost certainly a drug raid, my head has been all over the place. Watching Naomi being taken away in handcuffs was beyond shocking. My instincts were to go to her, but I hadn't had the chance to speak to Effy about my little weekend indiscretion yet and anyway, by the looks of the poker faced goons rushing Naomi out of the building, it wasn't likely I would be getting a quiet moment to chat, was it?

I stupidly allowed Effy to hold me round the waist as I stared at the drama going on in the corridor and saw the look of abject misery on Naomi's face as she was led away. Fuck...I can't stop fucking up, can I?

Too late to protest, she was already in the lift and had her face turned away by then. I shook free of the obvious Effy possession move, but by then the lift doors had closed and I could only stare at the mute steel doors in disbelief.

Too fucking late...that will definitely be on my tombstone.

" _Here lies Emily Fitch...always late to the party_ "

Shit.

And now I'm hiding like some naughty schoolgirl on a day trip with my class, just because I was stupid enough to let Effy persuade me that leaving my phone at home was a great idea. She has an infallible way of making the most unlikely propositions seem reasonable.

" _Look Ems...Cook is almost certainly in the nick and Naomi is about to join him. The feds will be scouring their_ _phone_ _contacts for someone else to pay a dawn visit to. Lets take a couple of days in gay Paree...leave it all behind? You're new in that job...the last thing you need is copper_ _s_ _sniffing round...even as a witness? If we're away...and right out of it, there'll be nothing to connect us to that cluster fuck, will there? I feel sorry for them, but there's nothing we can do_ _for them_ _right now_ _is there_ _,_ _Em..._ _ **Em**_ _?"_

It sounded so plausible, I fell for it. And before you say it...I know, OK? I know Effy is playing me, playing them. It's what she does. Assesses a situation in a microsecond and takes the strongest position without even thinking about it. I wanted to tell her that I'm in love with Naomi all over again, that I know about her fake visit to 'Paris' with Cook last weekend, that I want to break up with her. But voices in my head are screaming at me to go with it. I just could imagine my sister...my mum...even my dad bless him, shaking their heads and telling me that the last thing I need is to revisit those traumatic days of college. Not just that, but the mere mention of Naomi's name would make my sister growl and my mother wince. Bad memories flood into my mind at what I went through as a 16 year old. And now I have the added ingredient of her being arrested as a drug dealers associate (at the very least). I had no idea that Cook was involved in hard drugs to this extent. A bit of dealing at Roundview is one thing...at 17, we all do stupid things...but now? Now it looked like they had both been busted in a major raid. They could both go to prison for years? And where would _that_ leave us all? Me without Effy _and_ Naomi, her and Cook locked up and utter destruction as far as the eye could see.

So I cowardly let Effy pack us a small case each, dump our phones in the bottom of the wardrobe then book a taxi. An hour later, after she'd used the cab drivers phone to book flights, tipping him an extravagant extra £20 and a flash of her unfettered tits inside a half open top as reward, here we are at Heathrow, waiting for the gate call.

But I couldn't just fuck off and leave Naomi to whatever fate the authorities have planned for her. Not even I am _that_ cowardly. So thats why I'm here right now, holding a newly purchased pay as you go mobile phone in my hand...the tiniest one I could find off the shelf...trying to avoid my girlfriend, who is prowling the concourse looking for me...and fumbling to put the bloody tiny pre pay SIM inside. I need to text Naomi. Effy may have deprived me of my own phone, but I have the number of my ex memorised. So I sent her a text. I hoped against hope that she'd be released quickly, so she'd get this message as soon as she got back. There had been no sign of drugs when I was with her...surely it was just Cook in the shit?

 _Naoms. So sorry. I hope you're back home? I'll be back in two days when its calmed down? I love you, please believe that. I just have to get away for a bit. Em xoxox_

I would have written more, but Effy was getting scarily closer to the shop. I only managed to get away from her in the first place because she's developed an upset stomach and spent the past half hour in the airport loo. Buying this phone seemed the only way I would be able to communicate with Naomi, at least till we get back. At least I hope so. Even as I thumbed the send button I knew she was going to be disappointed with me...and angry...and very, _very_ hurt. Fuck, I sure know how to make things worse.

XXX

Naomi

I sat there for over half an hour while Rebecca made all the right noises about why Emily thought fucking off with Effy was such a great idea. I only looked up once and when she saw the pain in my eyes she stopped making lame excuses for her. Effy might have been the mover and shaker, but I'd hoped Emily had grown a backbone since Roundview. Apparently not. At the first sign of trouble (OK, a fucking huge sign I'll admit) off she'd trotted with Elizabeth Stonem...not unlike the last time she hit and ran. My despair was rapidly turning to anger. Bitch was the word that repeated in my head over and over as my refilled coffee cup grew cold...fucking _bitch_.

I was rescued from my self imposed misery by another tap on the door.

Max Zimmer.

Rebecca let him and and I heard a short, murmured conversation as they stood by the door. Keeping him in the loop, I think they call it. I wiped a stray tear that had appeared in the corner of one eye and stood up. If my saviour was here, the least I could do was thank him properly, even if I did fear the eventual pay-off.

Shorter than I remembered him, but undoubtedly with what they call 'presence', I thought as he walked briskly towards me with his hand out. Dapper in a dove grey suit which definitely didn't come from Debenhams. Plain blue silk tie and crisp white shirt. In any other situation, I might have taken him for one of the well dressed clones who swarm Canary Wharf (and buy industrial quantities of marching powder from one James Cook) but as he got closer, you could see he was no clone. It was the eyes...something I remembered from the brief previous time I had been introduced to him. Steely grey like his suit and piercing. If Effy Stonem (a pox on her and all her works) had heightened perception in her ocean blue eyes, Max had sheer power in his. Power and ruthlessness. Cook had only told me a few things about him, but none of them helped my peace of mind right then. A man who could be polite and courteous to a fault, but a man who could order another man's hands cut off for crossing him. I swallowed hard and forced a grateful smile onto my face.

"Mr Zimmer" I began, but he gripped my hand in his and shook his head.

"Naomi, my dear...please...its _Max_. We're family here. No need for formality?"

I swallowed again. Family? My mother would have kittens.

"M..Max" I stumbled over the word "Max...I just want to say thanks for..."

Again the head shake and I caught a whiff of over priced cologne as he waved at the couch I had been sitting on before he arrived. He handed a brown paper bag I hadn't even noticed him carrying to Rebecca and smiled again. We sat down at the same time, his thigh uncomfortably close to mine.

"No need Naomi...like I said, _family?_ Cook has been a silly boy, but I have people working on that. He's a sensible lad, despite appearances…?" The smile was a lot more shark like this time and I suppressed an internal shiver at the change of tone.

"... so now you're out and safely at home again, I take it Rebecca has been taking care of you?"

I nodded, Rebecca had been a rock and I appreciated it. What with the raid and Emily's cowardly escape, I'd badly needed a friend, even if it was a professional one.

"She's been wonderful" I said honestly "...really great. The police went through the motions, but they found no drugs here and..."

His eyes hardened and he motioned with his hand in a 'cut' motion for me to stop talking. Those unreadable shark eyes glittered as he turned to Rebecca and raised one immaculate eyebrow.

"Swept and cleared, nothing Max" she said in a clipped voice. It took a second for me to realise what she was actually saying. The apartment wasn't only repaired and cleaned, it had been comprehensively searched overnight for any sly bugs the Drugs Squad may have left behind to pick up careless drug dealer conversations.

Mollified by her assurance, he turned back to me with that smile restored.

"Naomi...I want you to know something. We _are_ working on sorting this out. Cook was unlucky as well as careless yesterday. Scotland Yard have put a crack outside team on breaking the supply chain for certain...merchandise... in this area. He just picked the wrong undercover copper to sell too, thats all. The package is safe and well out of their reach by now. The worst that can happen...if he keeps his mouth shut...is that he'll get pinched for possession with intent to supply. Luckily he only had a few street wraps on him, so with a decent brief...and he has that...he'll make bail when they can't find anything else to hold him on, then he'll be back home. Now...I understand that poses another little problem for you Naomi. I gather you and Cookie boy have some...issues to resolve?"

I glanced sideways at Rebecca who at least had the grace to look a little uncomfortable at betraying a confidence. But given who was sitting opposite me, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised.

I nodded.

"Me and Cook...well, its been a bit shit for quite a while and then there's..."

"Emily" Rebecca prompted.

I glared at her, but she stared back without blinking. I sighed. Again, I guess she was right. This was no time for secrets. Max was here, Cook was inside and Emily? Well, Emily was definitely a player in this little production, even if an absent one.

Max leaned over and gripped my knee in his hand. Not painfully, but as if to emphasise his next words.

"Cards on the table time, Naomi. I _can't_ have any more drama's right now...it's bad for business. I'll get Cook out on bail shortly, but he'll have to return here as part of the bail conditions. His name _is_ on the rent book, right?"

Its a mortgage actually, I thought stupidly, but this was no time to correct my benefactor about our homeowner status, was it?

"Yeah" I said, a little huskily as he squeezed tighter. The implied threat in that gesture wasn't lost on me.

"So" he carried on "...Cook comes home with his tail between his legs, apologises profusely for being a dick, abides by his bail conditions and you…? Well, _you_ Naomi, have to bite the bullet for a week or two, no more than a month. Whatever...romantic issues...you have with Cook and this... Emily girl? They'll have to go on the back burner for a while, until we get this whole shit storm squared away, right Naomi?"

What could I say? Cook coming home wasn't negotiable apparently. OK, I could make the idiot sleep on the couch, but he was coming here, that much was clear. Emily? Well, that little 'problem' had solved itself for the duration. Effy had spirited her away. I would just have to deal with it.

"Right" I said dejectedly "I understand completely Mr...err, Max"

He beamed at me and released my knee.

"Riiight" he said cheerfully "Rebecca here will be a frequent visitor until Cook appears in court, just to ensure everything goes smoothly… and then we can see how things stand when the trial date is set. I have another employee making sure our supply chain isn't interrupted on the island, and some way down the line it might be wise if young James handles another area for a while...the West End maybe...but this will all pass Naomi, you'll see? Meanwhile...I've made a sort of compensation arrangement, just to tide you over"

The brown paper bag I thought contained expensive Danish pastries apparently had a side dish included. Rebecca got up, grabbed the bag and passed it to me. I peered into it, trying not be be too impressed. But it was hard. There were several bundles of £50's in there… all used notes. I don't know how much in each bundle, but there was certainly enough cash in there to buy a small family car. I wanted to hand it back to him...tell him that I was in as deep as I wanted to ever go, but even as I thought it, I realised it was pointless. Effy Stonem may have set this little melodrama in motion (something I was glad neither Max or Rebecca had referred to so far) but Mr Max Zimmer was totally in charge of how it ended. I settled for a tight smile and a nod of acceptance.

"Good...good" he said smoothly "We understand each other perfectly then Naomi. Cook will probably not be out till tomorrow at the earliest..I think the police want to put him up in front of a magistrate to set bail?" Again he looked to Rebecca for confirmation.

I turned to look at her as she spoke.

"Thats right Max...Oliver says they are being...difficult...but Cook will be up before Lawrence Pope tomorrow at ELM. I'll have a word with Lawrence...should be fine. Probably set bail at £5000 and he'll need a surety?"

Max grimaced at the amount, but the smile was soon back.

"Yes, fine. Arrange that with Oliver, oh and Rebecca?"

She waited for him to speak.

"Make _very_ sure Mr Cook knows exactly how lucky he is to have such a considerate employer?"

Again the threat in his words, not so implied this time. Rebecca smiled thinly and nodded.

Five minutes later, Danish's uneaten and coffee ignored, Max was off. Just the aroma of his pricey aftershave left to linger. Rebecca let out a sigh of relief when the door finally closed behind him and leaned on it for a second, smiling at me.

"Well...it could have gone worse" she said "Max was quite...calm...today. But make no mistake Naomi...the things he's decided? they're non negotiable, right? Cook comes back here...I don't care if he sleeps on the kitchen table if that makes you feel better, but here is where he'll be living? I'll be in every day to check things are OK. There's enough cash in that bag to make life comfortable until Cook has his day in court. Oh...and Naomi?"

I just stared at her, conscious I had no say in what was going to happen for the duration.

"This...Emily girl...did she know what Cook does for a living?"

I shook my head. She knows now, but we hadn't discussed it before.

"No, not really, although getting my front door bashed in might have given her a clue? We didn't really discuss things like that before..."

Rebecca smirked and I knew what she was going to say before she did. It didn't make me blush any less though.

"Too many other 'things' to get off your chest" she chucked knowingly.

" _Yeah...mainly my fucking bra_ " I thought, but thank God didn't say. The look in her eyes told me she was thinking exactly that anyway. Busted.

"OK, well, I'll leave you to it for now...places to go and all that?"

I shrugged.

"So...when will I see you again?" I said before realising how desperate that sounded.

Rebecca grinned at my discomfort

"Tonight...I thought, as you're on your own, you might fancy some company. I'll bring a bottle...its been a hard day...maybe we can watch a DVD or Netflix?"

I should have said no. That I really needed a night on my own. But I would have been lying. Without Cook, without Emily...I was experiencing something akin to loneliness, something my teenage self would have scoffed at. Rebecca wasn't coming on to me in any case...rather she was doing her job and protecting the 'company' assets. But any port in a storm, huh?

XXX

 **OK, short but necessary. Next chapter will have more drama, but if you're expecting Naomi to end up in bed with Rebecca...not now. Maybe not ever. I think she's a more complicated individual than that. No...Rebecca is company for now, pure and simple. But I think next we will need to peep into the complicated world of Effily...yeah? Paris, city of love and all that...or not?**

 **Reviews make me ridiculously happy?**


	16. Chapter 16

**OK, chapter 16 then. Naomi out of jail at least, Emily in Paris with Effy...all OK then?**

 **Or not…**

 **Thanks for the reviews guys, it really means a lot that people are not just reading but passing comment. Even if its just ' _Hi,_ _quite_ _liked the chapter_ ' thats fine. Maybe I'm feeling a bit needy atm, but knowing somebody gets pleasure from reading my stuff is a real boost. Thanks again. I don't own Skins, but I definitely love it more than the people who do.**

Emily

Paris...city of fucking love. Or not.

Three days we've been here. I've had to take a weeks compassionate leave I've not even earned yet from work, citing 'family bereavement' and my head is all over the place _all_ the time. Relaxing it isn't.

Effy is just gliding about nonchalantly right now, as if everything in the Fitch/Stonem world is fine and dandy. As if nothing significant happened in the past 7 days to upset her dreamy equilibrium. Cheating, drug raids, serial infidelity? It's as if I dreamt it. I remember her saying once that I should just simply pretend it hadn't happened, when I'd had my heart crushed by a certain Naomi Campbell, back in those innocent schooldays at Roundview. Well, it didn't work then and it isn't working now. I go to sleep thinking about Naomi and I wake up having dreamed about her. Usually feeling like shit because, lets be honest, I all but dumped her to come here with Effy. Ran out on her because I was scared to get involved in something illegal.

Coming over here on the plane, I tried over and over to talk to her properly. But she kept making excuses. In the end I just leaned towards her and, ignoring the guy across the aisle, who was making a piss poor attempt to make out he wasn't listening, just came out with what I was thinking.

"Effy...I'm tired of these games. I know you spent last weekend with Cook. And if you spent the whole weekend together...you shagged, multiple times probably. Can we just stop pretending that this is all about you protecting me? What its really about is protecting _you_?"

Effy's face got serious suddenly.

"OK Em..." she said slowly "...I'll show you mine if you show me yours, sugar tits?"

Fucking hell, if I needed confirmation she'd recently spent a lot of time with Cook, there it was in one crude sentence.

The guy opposite spilled his orange juice on his suit trousers and I suppressed a brief, unhappy smirk at his obvious discomfort. I had more important things to worry about now. Time to fess up Emily, I told myself firmly.

"You mean me and Naomi?" I said, playing for time. Needless to say it didn't work.

"No...the Queen of fucking Sheba…." Effy said caustically "...of course its about you and Naomi...it always fucking _has_ been about you two. I knew as soon as you guys were reintroduced there was gonna be a countdown to naked Naomily time. Go on Emily...lie to me...tell me you and her didn't use the weekend to wear out the springs on _our_ fucking _bed_?"

I heard a small gasp from across the aisle, but ignored it. Mr Nosy had probably moistened the _inside_ of his trousers now…

"That's not...I mean...we _didn't_..?" I stuttered unconvincingly.

Effy shook her head dismissively.

"I said truth Emily...so here's mine. Yes I shagged Cook. Mainly because I knew exactly what you and the fragrant Miss Campbell would be up to sooner or later if you were in the same postcode. Cook is safe...can't you see that? A shag is just a shag to him. But you and her...fucking dynamite. I was scared...can't you get that? Scratching an itch with Cook was about blocking out what was always gonna happen once _you_ found out the love of your life was living next door..."

I opened my mouth to argue, but shut it again with a snap as fire flashed in her eyes. She said truth…

"Thought so..." she said grimly "...so, before we go comparing fuck ups, at least admit that you and her got it on...I'm not a fucking complete idiot Emily?"

I wanted to lie, but my eyes betrayed me even before my mouth did.

"Yes..." I said grudgingly "...so now we're both cheats. But that doesn't explain why we're here, now...and why you seem to know a shed load more about Cook's day job than I do... _and_ why you weren't at all surprised that Naomi got a visit from the Drug Squad this morning?"

The guy across the aisle had his eyes out on stalks by now and I saw him get up and head towards the toilets at the back of the plane. Men...I thought dismissively...probably off for a wank on the mere idea of lesbian activity.

I stared at Effy waiting for an answer, until finally she huffed and gripped my hand in hers fiercely, making me wince.

"I love you, Emily Fitch" she said and I winced again, this time from a rush of guilt. "From the moment I wrestled you away from that _b_...from Naomi...at college. It might not be a conventional love affair...you already know I'm not capable of being a hundred percent faithful...its in the genes, ask fucking Tony… but I  do love you. And up to now, I thought I might just have you to myself. But along comes the blonde, with those big blue eyes and suddenly I see the look on your face when her name is mentioned. See the way you zone out when you're thinking about her living right next door. I'm scared...fucking terrified actually...that this is something I can't fight. Can't we just go back to the way we were, Em?...Maybe we can get another place, there's millions of flats in London, somewhere we don't have the ghost of Christmas past living in the same building?"

Effy has never opened up to me the way she had then. I just sat there with my mouth open, stunned.

"B..but...I can't...I mean _we_ can't just..." I stuttered "...life isn't like that Effy. We can't just pretend it never happened. I cheated...you cheated. Its all fucked up?"

"No... _no_ " she said urgently, still gripping my hand "...we absolutely can Emily. Cook is in jail and probably set for a long stretch...and maybe Naomi is involved as well...do you really want to hang around hoping she isn't? If they find kilo's of whatever stuff he deals...they'll both be inside for _years_. Are you really saying you're up for that whole prison visitor thing Emily? Jail visits on the other side of the country, years of just letters and the odd stolen kiss? That's the best you can hope for if she goes down. Imagine what your family would think…?"

I could and it didn't make happy imagining. But again, I questioned just how much Effy knew about all this in advance. She seemed to be in possession of way more information than any normal curious bystander.

"How is it you _know_ all this Eff?" I said, pulling my hand free and massaging it with my other hand to restore some circulation. "I can't believe Cook had time to fill you in on all the details of his dodgy employment...probably too fucking busy filling you in good and proper with that lurid technicolour dick he likes to show off?"

It was a low blow I know, but what she'd said had rattled me badly. I'd never considered the fact that Naomi might actually end up in jail..maybe for years. As for my family, I knew exactly how they would react if they knew Miss Campbell was back in my life, even without the drug thing. My mother had come to terms, after a fashion anyway, with my 'unconventional' love life. Effy had charmed her eventually as easily as she had my dad, it just took longer. And Katie was actually quite fond of Ms Stonem these days...now their rivalry over college boyfriends was dead and buried. I'd be in for a world of shit if they even knew I'd met Naomi again. Let alone shagged her….cheated on Effy.

But she didn't even flinch. An answer for everything it seemed.

"Nice.." she said "...but after you've done insulting me...perhaps you'd like to 'fill _me_ in' about how Naomi's lezzer technique has improved over the years...she must have been practising a fair bit to keep you this eager Em, yeah?"

I blinked, trying unsuccessfully to keep the images of me and Naomi 'practising' out of my head as she stared at me challengingly. I couldn't of course and she knew that. Her eyes blazed as I looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"Yeah… thought so. Well? So are you gonna give up on us...on a normal life...for a drug dealers girlfriend who's probably going to be locked up for years?"

I couldn't answer that then, and I can't now.

XXX

The pay as you go phone I stashed on the top of the wardrobe (I suppose I should call it a garde-robe, seeing as we're in Paris) in our room in this posh hotel is still there, but although I check it obsessively when Effy is out of the room, there is never a message for me on it. I must have left thirty texts in the past three days. Surely, even if Naomi is one of those people who disregards anonymous messages, basic curiosity would have made her look at just _one_?

Which, of course, only leaves one other option. She knows very well who is calling and prefers to ignore me. Not that I can blame her one bit for that. Cook in jail, then, when she is expecting me to arrive on her doorstep with a suitcase, instead she gets it smashed in by the local cops on a testosterone fuelled pharmacy raid, then sees me watching her arrest. I still don't think she is actually _involved_ in Cooks 'activities'. She probably tolerates his larcenous nature and does what I am masterful at...turning a blind eye?

But after she gets hauled off by military kitted out cops, frightened stiff and in handcuffs, I clear straight off with my supposedly soon to be ex girlfriend. Nice one Emily. I put myself in her position, then just hold my head in my hands...what the _fuck_ did I think I was doing?

Being gutless comes to mind. Totally gutless.

And lets be honest, thats played right into Elizabeth Stonems hands.

I can hear the shower running. Effy is getting ready to take me to dinner tonight. Why is it I feel like its the condemned woman's last meal?

XXX

Naomi

I'm pissed. Pleasantly pissed. Sitting on my couch with a very attractive woman who's already confessed to being gay. In any other situation, fuck in any other _life_...I'd be plotting right now how to drop the arm I have resting on the back of the couch onto her bare shoulder...'accidentally'….like some adolescent boy in the back row of the cinema trying to cop a feel.

But I won't. Not because Rebecca is unattractive...not even because I think she would reject me. Over the past two hours, she's been funny, warm and very friendly. Friendly enough to give my rusty gaydar definite signals that she'd be quite happy if my hand slipped past her smooth shoulder onto the swell of those rather attractive breasts. I'm pretty sure a feverish tumble with me on the couch wouldn't be entirely unwelcome.

But I can't.

Not because it would make me feel like I was cheating (and boy, I seem to have become a cheat very easily lately) on Emily. Just the mention of her name makes my stomach flip and the anger that's bubbling just below the surface erupt. No...not that. Emily is currently enjoying the city of love with the ever attentive Ms Elizabeth Stonem...and I already have plenty of evidence about how well Effy 'distracts' Emily when she has to.

No...its more because I have the nagging feeling that shagging me would be just part of the job for the fragrant Rebecca. A not completely unpleasant part of her job, but a paid for chore none the less. And, bruised as I am from my recent history, I'm still not ready to jump into bed with the first attractive gay woman who sits on my couch.

So I resist copping that feel, even though my palm itches at the prospect of those full breasts and instead, pour us both another two big glasses from the two bottles of the Château Neuf she bought along tonight. I spent the first hour bitching about Emily and Cook, but for the past forty minutes, we've just been chatting like two 'normal' people. She's funny...with a stream of amusing anecdotes about court cases that went wrong, and bits of inside information on the stupidity of the average plod. She's also _very_ rude about Max, in a gentle but comical way, so I guess I've relaxed a bit now too.

And her arriving here in a tight white tee, brown leather jacket and blue skinnies certainly made a change from the sharp suit and heels of earlier on. I've tried not to think about her in 'that' way...she does after all work full time for Cook's pretty intimidating boss...but its quite difficult to equate the Rebecca of now with the bookish lawyer who so efficiently got me out of the clutches of the drug squad today.

So, I found myself relaxing back onto the couch and swallowing some more delicious wine. Me and Cook were more beer and cider people, but I could get used to this £25 a bottle stuff, I decided there and then.

I still hadn't counted the cash in that brown paper bag Max gave me earlier. I just stuffed it into my knicker drawer and tried to forget what it was, but I knew it would be in the thousands. Enough to buy my continued silence thats for sure.

Rebecca said Cook wouldn't be out until lunchtime tomorrow as he was up in front of the (paid for) magistrate who would be setting bail at 10.30. So tonight I was supposed to chill, drink some expensive wine and enjoy the company of this very attractive Zimmer & Co employee.

"So...Naomi..." Rebecca said after drinking some more of her wine "...can I speak the name of the girl who lives next door yet?"

My silence must have told her I didn't much appreciate the mood change, but she carried on anyway.

"Come on Naomi...you're a pretty and intelligent woman? If this...Emily...runs off at the first sign of trouble….and you can tell me to mind my own business here…?"

I could, and normally I would. But strangely, even though I wasn't about to lunge at her, Rebecca interested me as a person and answering her question might just answer some of my own. I sighed and waved the wine glass at her to carry on.

"...OK then. Like I said, you, Naomi Campbell, attractive, soon to be single gay woman. Money in the bank and in the clear with the law. Apart from James Cook, who as I see it is yesterdays problem...for you anyway...you have options, yeah? If Emily is that fickle...or pussy whipped by her other half, what have you got to lose by finding out what... _who_ else is out there?"

I snapped my head round at that. Was that a come on?

"I..I, look I like you Rebecca, but..." I said quietly, hoping I wasn't making a complete tit of myself. Fat chance.

She threw her head back and laughed at my shocked face.

"No...no...NO Naomi...that's not what I meant at all"

I reddened as I saw instantly I had spectacularly got it wrong yet again.

Rebecca put her hand on mine and stifled a giggle as I continued to flush.

"Look...that came out all wrong. I _do_ find you attractive Naomi, I have fucking eyes, after all? But the last thing you need is more complications in your life. The sort of complications I would definitely bring to the party. Believe me..I'm no better than you at picking the right girl…?"

She left that hanging, but didn't elaborate.

"...no I meant don't let this setback put you off being the real you? If this Emily is too weak or too whipped to break away...fuck her. If you went out tomorrow night...there are about 3 gay clubs within two Tube stops in every direction…? Go out and enjoy yourself...spend some of Max's money having _fun_. Get pissed, dance a bit and get laid...surely you know at least one other gay girl in this town?"

A light bulb went off in my head. Actually I _did_...didn't I?

XXX

Emily

"No fucking way Effy...I just want to get this night over with, drink a bit more of this wine and with luck, pass out in the taxi back to the hotel? No way am I going to a club with you"

Effy just smirked and as usual, ignored my protests.

"Emily Fitch..." she said with a knowing wink "...this is a place you might remember from your youth? Katie told me about it. Apparently you were quite keen actually… didn't shut up about it when you got back to the hotel? A club where ladies lose their...inhibitions...quite easily?"

Oh fuck, I thought... _that_ club?

 **Thats it folks. Another chapter done. Short, but at least I keep them coming. I have a feeling it mightn't be the only thing...coming...in the next chapter. But you'll have to review to inspire me?**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter...err...forgotten. Oh yeah, chapter 17. Naomi is starting to replace hurt with resignation after a heart to heart with the pretty lawyer working for her ex's employer and building a slow, but slightly unhealthy desire for revenge. Emily still in the scheming clutches of Effy Stonem in the city of love too and...well...still being a bit un Emily like really with all that neediness and indecision. Maybe she'll grow a backbone in this chapter and put everything right with the love of her life? You'll need to read to find out.**

 **Thanks for the entirely unwarranted praise. I don't deserve it. But I lap it up anyway!**

 **Skins belongs to someone I can't even remember. But they're ours now anyway, right?**

Naomi

Dawn.

Grey and claggy outside. I can just see the murky top of Canada Tower from my position here. Lying on my side, facing the slightly open window of my apartment. Its warm in bed and I wriggle slightly, snuggling further under the soft duvet and bunch my pillow up as my eyes gradually get used to the grimy daylight. My head thumps slightly...not enough to make me groan at the prospect of a serious hangover, but enough to remind me that even expensive vino can leave a kick behind. Speaking of which, even though I'm extremely comfortable right now, my leg is tangled in the said duvet and I need to stretch it.

So I do.

And make contact with a warm, naked leg. Fuck.

I shagged her...I _shagged_ her, I think frantically, my mind screaming to catch up.

Except, as reality penetrates my fuddled brain eventually, I remember I didn't. Shag her that is. I might have _wanted_ to (go on Naomi, admit that when the second bottle was drained, you were teetering on the verge of suggesting one of those zipless fucks you read about in those dog eared 1970's paperback novels your mum left lying around at the communal Campbell residence to err...educate...you about sex. Thanks mum, I think. Sex education in my house was short and to the point.

" _You're 14 now Naomi...nearly a woman. Men...and women probably... will want you,_ _want to have sex with you_ _. Deal with it. Read this...(_ _I_ _can't actually remember the title of the book, but it had fucking_ _ **illustrations**_ _, believe it or not!)... and I've made you an appointment at the sexual health clinic. If_ _do_ _you start having sex, just make sure you protect yourself..._ _guys can't be trusted on that one_ _?"_

Amazing as it sounds, this wasn't even the most excruciating conversation I've ever had with my mother...there are so many to choose from, but it certainly left an impression on me. Not perhaps the one my mother desired. I didn't read the book from cover to cover, decide to try out every position humanly possible and then wear out the springs on my bed. Instead I threw it in the wardrobe and didn't get it out again for another year. At 14, all I wanted was a new bike and a replacement laptop (some itinerant stray fucker had stolen the old one from my bedroom when I was in the shower one morning). I got neither in the end, and cancelled the appointment with the clinic an hour after my mother left to go lentil hunting. Frankly, my mother was the sort of parent who, if she came home and found me fellating a classmate in the hallway, would just tut indulgently, then go find me a leaflet about orally transmitted sexual diseases.

Sex was something I thought (and found out rapidly _was_ ) messy, clumsy and unsatisfying. Right up till the night I finally surrendered to...her...and the world of Naomi Campbell changed for ever. But even that experience has now turned out to be an illusion of happiness. I blink away an emerging tear as I realise that not shagging Rebecca was the solitary highlight of last night. She's in my bed...in a borrowed tee shirt, but sleep was the only thing we shared after the lights went out.

So I didn't shag her.

Why is it I feel a little disappointed about that?

It would have been a revenge shag, yeah. A poke in the eye for an unknowing Emily Fitch, currently no doubt moaning deliriously under a newly interested Effy Stonem. But it would have been sterile, loveless. A fuck designed to claim some sort of victory over someone who obviously doesn't care. My throat tightens and I have to grip the duvet tightly to stop myself letting out a small, strangled sob.

I thought we.. I mean I thought she…

" _Naomi_ _darling_ _...I can hear you thinking from here. Coffee?_ "

I hate and love Rebecca for dragging me back from that almost breakdown. The cheerful way she said that has jerked me back into some sort of normality. A mental checklist popped up my brain as I nodded in agreement without turning round. I feel the bed dip and sway slightly as she gets up. The bedroom door closes quietly and only then I roll over onto my back, fiercely rubbing a sneaky small tear from the corner of my eye.

Right...checklist.

One: Cook is home today...probably after lunch. Must get the place ready for his couch stay

.

Two: I need to call work and beg another day off. Work from home or something.

Three: Smile sweetly at Rebecca over toast and coffee, then send her on her way.

Four: Remove each and every trace of Emily Fitch from my apartment and my mind….no fuck that...my life.

The last one might prove a bit tricky, but I'll just concentrate on the others first. Give my aching head and body something to do.

I throw back the duvet cover and stretch. I don't really feel better, but I've been here before...alone… abandoned. I'll survive.

XXX

Emily

Dawn.

My head is pounding. My eyes are scratchy and whatever remains of the make up I so carefully applied last night is acting like glue on my eyelids. My mouth feels like someone has used it as a scourer and my stomach is rolling like I'm on a cross Channel ferry in a storm. Not the way I like to wake up at all. Even as a teenager, I hated hangovers. Nasty persistent things that fuck up your whole day. And this one feels like a doozy. I groaned in pain and rolled onto my back, squinting at the window. The curtains are wide open and I can see a clear blue sky out there. Impatient horns are hooting in the street below, along with voices...French voices.

My eyes, crusted as they are, sprang open anyway, making me whimper again. Then it all starts rushing into my aching head. Last night...the restaurant, the club...Effy giving me some powder to take with my champagne. Loud music, exotic perfumes, flashing strobe lights and writhing sensuous bodies dancing around me.

"Oh God" comes from my throat. Hoarse, smoky sounding, even to me. I chance a turn of my head, but the bed beside me is empty. No Effy then.

Carefully...oh so carefully, I propped myself up on the overstuffed feather pillows and just as carefully allow my body to settle back. A tiny moment of relief, then my head begins to thump again.

The club...something about the club? The thought nags at me even as I try to dismiss it. Too fucking painful. At this level of hangover, I'm at borderline alcohol poisoning, I know that. Someone (Effy?) has left a full carafe of what looks like cold water on the ornate side table. Despite my head protesting,. I lean over and fill a crystal tumbler and thirstily down the whole glass. Then another.

Finally, I sink back again onto the pillows and wait till my stomach stops protesting.

The club...the _club_. Something happened at the club?

Then, as my head starts to clear gradually, I feel other parts of my body nagging me about what I put it through last night. I move my arm and feel the ache of a fresh bruise. I look down and see it. Finger marks on my pale forearm. A matching set on the other too. Then another ache...further down. _There_ …

My heart sinks as the familiar sensation of a night of rough sex assaults my brain. I fucked Effy last night?

I couldn't...could I? I mean I had been so good. I might have run out on Naomi when she needed me, but I swore to myself I wouldn't have sex with Effy again. I promised Naomi I wouldn't. So how….?

I risked further cranial damage by hunting for my phone on the side table, then remembered it was in the wardrobe at home. Useless.

"Effy?" I croaked as loudly as my hangover would allow. No reply from the bathroom. Then I noticed a short note scribbled onto the expensive notepad by the carafe of water. Blinking to focus, I read it.

" _Hey babe. Gone for coffee and pain au chocolate. I'll bring you back some. Relax...you were a busy girl last night! Eff xx"_

I tensed as the last sentence registered. _Busy_...last night? Doing what.

The ache between my legs and the bruises on my arms reminded me that Emily Fitch had definitely been fucked last night. I'm no Mata Hari, but I've had enough sex in my twenty something years to know when I've been very...active….

Fuck… I _had_ shagged Effy. I told myself I wouldn't, but champagne and whatever drug it was she slipped into my glass before we went into the club had demolished my defences... _a_ fucking _gain_.

Now shame and remorse joined their old friends pain and exhaustion in tormenting me. _Jesus_ Emily...two nights saying no to resuming relations with your soon to be ex and you choose our last night in Paris to fall off the wagon. In my minds eye I could imagine the look on Naomi's face when she found out about this. There is no _way_ Effy will keep quiet about it. Even if by some miracle I managed to get home, convince Naomi that I still want her and move out of my shared apartment, there is a 100% chance that Effy will drop the bombshell on us in about half a second. If I dump her, she'll tell Naomi. Definitely. I'm screwed.

I let that awful fact sink in, squeezing my eyes shut and calling myself every obscene name I could think of until I hear the room door open. Effy walks in, looking effortlessly beautiful and as if she'd spent last night at a health spa being pampered instead of matching me drink for drink, oh and consuming at least two more lines of that lethal concoction she's given me.

"Oh..awake then?" she says unnecessarily and I wince at her brightness. Bitch.

"Looks like it" I mumble grumpily and force myself to sit up straighter. I'm naked, but even as Effy gives my tits the once over, I dismiss any feeling of modesty. If we shagged again last night, what was the point in being coy?

"Effy..." I say huskily, my voice still bruised from last nights excesses "...about last night…?"

I was _going_ to say...about last night...it was all a mistake, too much champagne, too many drugs. I wanted her to know nothing had changed. I was still going to leave her when we got back. Even if Naomi didn't want me after I'd been so cowardly, it didn't change the fact that my relationship with Effy was over. This little jaunt to Paris confirmed what I had known for a while. We were going through the motions nowadays, being a couple in name only. The fact that we'd both slept with other people just days ago was proof enough of that. But what she said next stopped me in my tracks.

She put the brown bag of pastries down next to two cardboard cups of steaming coffee and smiled at me. I didn't like that smile. It was the 'old Effy' smile. The predatory, all knowing, superior look she perfected at Roundview. It meant she knew something I didn't, something important. I wasn't wrong.

"Before you say anything else Ems...you might want to watch this?" she smirked "I meant it when I said you really went for it last night. MDMA huh? Knocks down all those carefully built Fitch walls. Oh...by the way, Maria and Eloise say hi and can they have your number for when they visit London? I'll leave your breakfast here Em...I feel like a nice long bath?"

She handed me a memory stick. I stared at it in confusion...what the f…?

As she reached the bathroom, she swivelled round and picked up a small tablet from the coffee table. I didn't even know we'd brought one with us. Still smirking, Effy passed me the unit and pointed to the USB socket,

"I'd settle back and enjoy the show hun" she said in a suddenly cold voice "you were quite the star of the show...proper little porn star...oh and I have another copy...just in case you're feeling a bit...destructive... after you've watched it.?"

As the bathroom door closed I stared at it numbly. Just when I thought it was the worst morning of my life...it goes and gets more brutal. I didn't want to slide that treacherous little stick into the computer, but as the bath filled in the en suite, I knew I would. With a heart as cold as ice, I booted the tablet up and waited for the 'show' to start.

XXX

Naomi

Well, its been an interesting morning and early afternoon so far. Rebecca left after coffee, promising to call me when Cook was about to be released. According to her, the magistrate was 'on the books' so it was a foregone conclusion he would get bail, whatever objections the police put up.

So it proved. At just after 12, the doorbell rang and when I answered it, a rumpled and rueful Cook stood there. He looked like he'd slept in a hedge, but given my own recent experience of incarceration, I knew that was a common look for anyone who'd spent any time as a guest of Her Majesty.

His attempted cheeky grin disappeared as I ignored him and spun round, leaving the door open for him to follow.

I sat on the very edge of the only chair in the lounge. The couch had fresh bedding stacked on the side of it and I nodded towards it silently as he stood in the doorway. His usual 'couldn't give a fuck' attitude seemed to have deserted him temporarily.

"Right Cook...new rules" I said in a clipped voice. I wanted us to be very clear about how things were going to be from now on. I was still raw about being sucked into his sordid little world, but underneath that, I bore my own share of guilt. I'd always known what he did for a living. I just chose to ignore it. And him sleeping with Stonem? Well, me sleeping with _her_ girlfriend at the same time sort of put any feelings I had of betrayal in their place? But all that aside, things still needed to be said.

"...you're sleeping there?" I indicated the couch "...for the foreseeable future. This is an arrangement that I had no say in...as I'm sure the lovely Max will confirm. I'm out on police bail too, so we just have to get through it. But don't be in any doubt...you and me? Over. Whatever fucked up relationship we had is done. You cheated, I cheated...not exactly the foundation of something permanent, is it?"

I would normally get some sort of cheeky deflection about now, but the reality of the situation we were in seemed to silence his usual ebullience. He just nodded, waiting for me to finish.

"...so we are where we are. Right now, I don't want to think any further ahead than today. I'm sure Max will be wanting to see you later on,. Don't let me stop you. I suggest you take a bath...wash the stink of the nick off you, change into some clean clothes...your stuff is in that kit bag over there?" I nodded in the direction of the Army surplus tall kitbag propped up in the corner. I'd at least been considerate enough to put all his gear through the washing machine earlier on, so it was all clean and ironed. Least I could do, I suppose.

"But we share this place _only_ until this is sorted, right? Effy and Emily have fucked off to Paris for some sort of twisted second honeymoon..so we're both dumped Cook. I suppose that makes some sort of sense. We were both suckered James. We'd better get used to the idea"

I saw the flicker in his eyes at that and thought at first it was pain, but when he spoke I realised it was far from the reaction of spurned lover.

"Yeah...guessed that blondie. Figures. Effy always was good at running away...just like me. But it won't do her any good. Max did a bit of digging with his contacts at the Met while I was in the chokey. It turns out I wasn't just stupid and unlucky getting caught. Someone put the word in to this new Drug Squad about where and when I would be at that pub. The wooden top who took the call is on Max's payroll. Didn't know it was me she was shopping then. But he recognised the voice on the phone. I thought Effy was smarter than that. All calls to that unit are recorded"

I sat there with my mouth open at that. So it WAS Effy who started this whole thing off...fucking _bitch_.

Cook just shrugged at my expression.

"We won't be the only casualties of this fuck up babe. Effy is in a whole lot of shit...terminal fucking shit Naomi. And so is her little side kick. Live witnesses are a liability...know what I mean?"

I didn't, but it was rapidly getting clearer.

XXX

 **Reviews would be nice, but thanks for stopping by anyhow!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello again!**

 **Been rushed off my feet this week, but I've managed in the few minutes between shifts, to knock out some more. I said this tale would be complicated and its about to happen. Drama with a capital D is promised. If you thought things couldn't get any more intense, you were wrong. God, thats such a drum roll build up, I hope you're not disappointed now! Things are going pear shaped overnight. Warning of a tragedy in this chapter. Just so you know.**

Emily

I'm not going to relate in detail what I saw on that memory stick...well, not yet anyway. Seeing yourself totally out of control and out of your head, dancing, snogging and...well...lets be honest _shagging_ two complete strangers in some seedy Paris nightclub isn't something you share easily...unlike my body, which the chemicals Effy so cunningly dripped into my system ensured I did willingly. And not that my so called fucking girlfriend even joined in. Oh no..she was the conductor of the orchestra. The puppeteer tugging my strings. Alcohol, strong MDMA and what ever the fuck else she had sourced utterly removed my inhibitions. I only watched a few seconds of my naked humiliation. Unlike when I was at college and pining for Naomi, it seems I had no reluctance this time about enjoying illicit random sex. I performed, just as Effy knew I would, drunk, stoned and cleverly coerced by two beautiful and persistent strangers.

And she fucking _filmed_ it...bitch.

Shutting down the tablet and throwing it on the floor. I stared out of the window at the clear blue Paris sky and wept bitter tears. Effy one, Emily nil...yet again. If merely sleeping with Effy was enough to shatter any chance of getting back with Naomi, having stoned and drunk sex with two French whores was the tin lid nailed firmly shut. Whatever excuse I came up with would be treated with the contempt it deserved. What sort of _person_ have I become, I thought miserably? I was turning back into my meek and submissive 15 year old self, cowed and bullied by everyone.

But strangely enough, after I'd done a few more minutes self loathing, something else surged through me. Hatred...contempt and a desire for revenge. Effy might have tried to manipulate me right out of leaving her for Naomi, but there is some of Katie's resolve in me too. Its deeply buried and seldom released, but in that French hotel room, with a memory stick of shame in my hand, it emerged, blinking into the daylight.

" _Fuck_ this" I said to myself quietly. "This shit ends _right_ now"

I knew Effy would take her good time in the bath. Enjoying her victory. Well, I knew at that moment her victory would be pyrrhic at best. She can burn alongside me, I thought viciously. I can bank on at least an hours start now.

Quietly and methodically, I packed my small overnight case. Just the one change of clothes, my passport and purse. Splashing my face with water from the half empty carafe and swilling some in my mouth to remove the sour taste of my shame, I dressed quickly. Jeans, a sky blue sweat shirt and my short black leather jacket. Slipping my sunglasses on and running both hands through my unkempt hair, I scanned the room for the last time. Nope, nothing else I needed. Whatever Effy thought would come out of this nasty bit of blackmail, my compliance wasn't something I was going to give her any more... _ever_.

I took a complimentary imperial mint from the crystal bowl on the ornate table inside the door to freshen my mouth a bit more and left, pausing to drop the memory stick into a full vase of flowers. I had no doubt Effy had another copy somewhere...this plan of hers had been carefully worked out after all...but at least the one she gave me would be destroyed by the residual liquid in the vase.

The door clicked almost silently behind me as I walked swiftly down the carpeted hall. I took the lift to the ground floor and crossed reception without a glance at the concierge. Effy would have to take care of the formalities of checking out. A line of cabs waited outside and I asked the driver to get me to Gare de Nord as quickly as possible in my pidgin French. If I had been Katie, I might have shown him a bit of leg or a flash of cleavage, but I'm not her and sweatshirt and jeans ain't exactly sexy, is it?

Regardless, in a few minutes I was walking into the Eurostar departure part of the station. I bought a ticket to St Pancras, from where I could take the tube home. I knew Effy, once she realised I was gone, like _really_ gone, not just out of the building, would think I would be at the airport...after all, we had return tickets. But with trains arriving every hour, this would be just as quick, maybe quicker for me. I had no idea what I was going to do when I arrived home, but my first priority was to get there...alone… _then_ figure out what to do. I phoned Katie from the platform while I waited for the next train. Whatever I decided to do next, she would always have my back. However deep the shit I was in, my twin will always support me. I hoped…

XXX

Effy twisted the hot tap again, using her toe. She really should get out now, she thought idly. If things went to plan, Emily would still be sobbing into her pillow, humiliation complete. How dare she think Elizabeth Stonem could possibly come second to that sarcastic bottle blonde Campbell? Drastic measures were needed when the situation was this serious and virtually pimping out Emily was certainly drastic. Effy had a seconds remorse, quickly shut down. Emily would get over it...she always had in the past. Affairs, hospital stays, either for overdose or psychiatric reasons...you name it, the younger Fitch twin had stuck by her. Removing Cook and Naomi from the picture had been a genius stroke, Effy thought smugly. Even Tony at his most Machiavellian would have been in awe of what she'd done. Her neighbours neutralised, Emily humiliated and brought to heel...everything in the Elizabeth Stonem universe was under control.

Except it wasn't. Not at all as it turned out.

Emily leaving her wasn't the worst of it. Not even close.

As she smiled to herself and sipped more champagne from the flute glass on the side of the bath, she didn't hear the room door outside quietly open and close. Didn't see the dark haired man in a stolen porters uniform scour the bedroom for her absent lover. Didn't see either, through the swirling steam, the bathroom door handle turn and the door swing open.

Didn't feel a thing as, with closed eyes she rested her head on a neatly folded towel, splashing hot bathwater over her pink skin…. until a coil of twisted strand wire slipped easily round her neck that is.

Then she looked up in total surprise at the steely eyes of a strange man staring expressionless down at her. The noose tightened abruptly and her heels drummed uselessly on the bath edge as oxygen was brutally cut off from her straining lungs.

"Hi Elizabeth... bye Elizabeth..." the man said laconically as his hands tightened the wire further "Max says hello" His expression unchanged as she gasped and tugged uselessly at his hands. This couldn't be happening...it wasn't _supposed_ to end like this...she had so much to live for...

Thirty seconds later, her frantic, hopeless struggles finally done, Effy Stonem sank lifelessly to the bottom of the oversized bath, eyes still wide in pained shock. Blue...so hypnotically blue, those eyes...but now dull and bloodshot with sudden, violent death.

The man gave it another ten seconds, making absolutely sure life was absent from the slim body below him before slipping the wire from around Effy's neck and straightening. He looked down one last time at her still form before leaving the bathroom.

"Pity" he thought to himself as he left "Nice body...another time I might have had some fun with her before finishing the job. Still...the little girlfriend is still outstanding. Better get cracking on finding her...maybe I'll catch her somewhere quiet and private" He grinned unpleasantly to himself at the prospect of some 'fun' with Emily before choking the life out of her.

XXX

Naomi

"What the fuck does that actually mean Cook?" I said incredulously "...terminal...what is this, fucking _Goodfellas_?"

Cook just stood there with a half embarrassed, half guilty look on his face...an expression he had perfected over the years when I was pissed off with him. But this was different. Surely he couldn't mean….no?

"Y..you mean Max will...what do you fucking low criminals call it...rub Effy _out_?" I spluttered.

It sounded ridiculous even as I said it, but one look into Cooks eyes told me he was deadly serious. Max wasn't quite the joke gangster I had half imagined. I should have known that by the way he acted when he came round here. Talk about the iron fist inside a velvet glove?

"Bit 1980's Naomikins, but yeah….someone who grasses up the boss normally disappears within a few days. Now they could have jumped ship and done a runner, but its happened to a couple of people I know and they've never turned up again. I told you he was dangerous princess...it looks like Effy has over reached herself this time?"

I was still struggling to come to terms with what was going on. One minute things were going 'fine' at least in Campbell/Cook terms. Next minute, I'm cheating on him with my ex, he's cheating on me with _his_ ex and she exacts revenge, or punishment, whatever, on me and Emily by grassing Cook up to the Feds. Now I've got to try to believe that Cook's boss is not just a drug dealing gangster, but a murderer too? My head was swimming with the impossibility of it all.

I sat down with a thump on the couch, looking up at Cook, who still stood there dumb.

"Tell me it's not true" I whispered "tell me this is just some stupid wind up Cook. I mean, I've got no time for your ex...she's a manipulative, sly bitch who plays everyone she meets...but murder? Fuck's sake, I feel like I've walked into an episode of The Wire?"

Cook sat down beside me and sighed heavily. An unusually subtle gesture from my soon to be ex boyfriend. His usual solution to problems was drink, drugs and willing pussy...not necessarily in that order. Given the current situation, he was highly unlikely to get the latter at this address, but he showed no signs of wanting to get off his face anytime soon either. Which to be honest worried the shit out of me.

Then it hit me...like a bucket of ice cold water. Effy...killed...but she..and Em...Fuck **Emily**?"

"I turned to Cook and screamed at him.

"Emily...tell me Max isn't going to include her in this Cook...fucking tell me that?"

In my shock, I had totally forgotten his first sentence. Live witnesses, he said?

Cook shook his head almost sadly and looked away from me as I waited for him to answer.

"Dunno blondie, but if she's there with Effy when Max's guy calls…?"

He left it there, but I couldn't.

"Get to fuck Cook...you're telling me this fucking _hit-man_ or whatever will kill _Emily_ too?"

He nodded without turning round, his fingers fiddling with the zip on his jacket. I wanted to slap the shit out of him, but it was slowly dawning on me that I was as guilty as him in all this. It's not as if I didn't know the sort of people he mixed with, is it? And the plush lifestyle we had got used to was gained by selling hard drugs. I knew that all along, I just insisted he kept it out of the apartment.

But now it was very much _in_ the apartment. Both of us out on bail, Effy and Emily in Paris with some fucking Jackal clone hunting them down? Jesus Naomi, I screamed at myself silently, this has all got way out of control. My anger and disgust with Emily at her running out on me was fading fast. I could see now that we were all just pawns in the sly games Effy was playing with our lives. But she had come up against a big hitter this time. Someone who could keep raising the ante until she folded. Someone who was crazy enough to kill her...and my beautiful dark eyed Emily Fitch.

What the fuck do I do now, I said to myself bleakly, dropping my head into my hands. I can't let this happen...not to Emily….

XXX

 **OK, short and not so sweet. Sorry about that. I was going to say that more drama is coming soon, but I'm not sure thats what you guys want. Very few people reading and even fewer commenting. That's cool. I'll take an extended break and just be a reader of excellent stories again. There are a couple of good ones on the go and I will carry on supporting and reviewing them instead. If I inflicted my crap on you for too long, I apologise. We can't all be Booker Prize winning authors!**

 **Thanks for being with me for this long anyhow. Adios!**


	19. Chapter 19

**I know...I know…**

Naomi

I sat there for a while after Cook had delivered his bombshell with my head in my hands, random thoughts spinning crazily through my head. Helplessness...that was the overwhelming emotion. I was a fucking pawn like everyone else. Having my freedom was the only bright light in my suddenly sombre world. At least I wasn't sitting in that grey cell with its harsh naked bulb and missing door handle. But that was a flickering comfort at best. Freedom to do what? Emily was still with the manipulative Ms Stonem, who if Cook was right...and I had no reason to doubt my ex's judgement on this cluster fuck… would soon be getting a visit from the grim reaper in the shape of Max's humourless hit man with homicide in mind. And in Paris? How the fuck was I supposed to do anything constructive anyway from here? Interpol was probably otherwise engaged at the moment, even if I had been able to convince a sceptical European detective I was on the level about international assassins and my ex girlfriend. Something tells me my story would only cast more doubt on my own innocence in all this. Call me cynical, why don't you. Oh, and not sparing a fuck about Elizabeth Stonem didn't give me to much pause for sympathy either. Architect of her own downfall, I think they call it?

So it must have been over half an hour, while Cook stared listlessly out of the window that I racked my brains for another solution, then the anonymously sent texts Emily had bombarded me with swam into my minds eye. Of _course_...Emily had sent me all those messages from a PAYG phone...a burner. Which meant she was at least aware enough to use something untraceable to her. I had barely scanned the increasingly desperate messages...burning with indignation and disgust for her as I was...but it was the only way I was going to get hold of her in the short term. Even if she was naked and underneath the treacherous Effy at this moment, a smug Stonem sealing her victory with a triumphant shag, it was only a matter of time before Emily checked to see if I had answered. I had the evidence of the Roundview years to prove just how persistently hopeful she could be. I remembered with shame how often I coldly blew her off in those far off days, only for her to bounce right back next day like a little lead weighted toy the first time I hove into view. I might have been consistently ignoring her apologies all night and day, but the Emily Fitch I knew would still have hope in her heart...its what drives her, always has.

I jumped up, startling Cook from his miserable and miraculously sober fugue and rushed to the bedroom, grabbing my phone from the bedside cabinet. I ignored the messages content and instead just thumbed the call button. With a whole bucket load of luck, Emily wouldn't be groaning her delight at the no doubt miraculous talent of Ms Stonems tongue right this moment. Maybe...just maybe...the big guy upstairs could cut me some slack and let her answer?

No sale...of course. My luck is equally divided between bad and none at all. Good fortune is a rare commodity in the short and sad tale of my existence. The phone rang out the other end, and to make it worse Emily hadn't set up the answering function, so I just got that annoying " _Sorry, the person you are calling is unavailable at the moment, p_ _l_ _ease try later?"_ recorded bollocks.

I gritted my teeth and texted her instead. If she checked in the next few minutes, hopefully she might ring me back before one of Tony Soprano's death dealing henchmen arrived at wherever they were staying.

" _Emily. Call me URGENTLY. No time to explain but this is fucking life and death. No, really. Call me RIGHT NOW! Naomi "_

I paused before hitting the send button. Not because I thought the message was over-dramatic, it wasn't, but stupidly I hesitated over putting a fucking kiss on the end...sap that I am. Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I sent the text as it was… kisses could wait.

I'd like to say that within seconds the phone rang and I was able to talk to her. But that isn't what happened. While Cook sat moodily staring out of the window at another depressing grey London day, I paced around my bedroom, occasionally stuffing random items in an overnight bag (only pausing to wonder where the fuck I thought I was going), then checking my phone obsessively every ten seconds. A cold feeling was rising up through my body. What if this hit man fucker had already done his job? What if Emily and Effy were currently lying on a hotel bed side by side, their sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling...what if, what **if**?

…

Emily

The Eurostar pulled into St Pancras with a resigned sigh, as if relieved to be back on home soil. I waited patiently for the inevitable scrum of tutting passengers to grab their luggage from the overhead lockers and leave the aisle clear. Its not as if I have anywhere urgent to go, is it? With Effy in Paris, no doubt fragrant from her bath, only raising her eyebrows at my 'histrionics' at running back to the UK, and Naomi not taking my calls or texts, I had nothing more in my head than getting back to the apartment and packing. Because nothing that I'd stewed over on the journey had changed my mind. For the first time in years it seemed, I had a clear view of how my life really looked to an outsider. I was wasting my youth living with a girl who loved me only in the most detached way. I was a convenient front, an obedient nurse and a damned good shag when she needed release. Effy Stonem would never be capable of real love. It was as if the gene that produced those human feelings had been left out of her DNA. No… even as seemed likely, Naomi was done with me, I had to get a grip right now. I'd give it one more try with my lovely neighbour, just for old times sake. But with the guilt inside me over being manipulated by Effy and those two supple whores, I wasn't even sure I could look Naomi in the eye ever again. I was under no illusions about my ex's determination to fuck up any chance of a future reunion with the delicious Miss Campbell. I wouldn't put it past Effy to put the whole sorry show up on a porn site, so the rest of the world could watch my downfall. I shivered at the thought of my parents, or worse my pervy younger brother, getting to watch yours truly being sandwiched by two naked French tarts. Jesus, even now he's a bit older, the prospect of seeing his sister fucking two women in HD would be impossible to resist. I bet him and the creepy Gordon McPherson would have to send out for family sized tissue supplies…

…

So it was with no expectation at all I pulled out the pay as you go mobile I bought at the airport on the way over to Paris. I expected to see...well, nothing at all actually. My parents and Katie only had my old number. Effy didn't have it either.

So I stopped in my tracks when the small screen showed about ten missed calls and an unread text.

I ducked into a handy W H Smith stationers, out of the way of the surging crowd of passengers and stood behind one of those travel book carousels they have dotted about. It gave me space and just enough quiet to open and read the message.

" _Emily. Call me URGENTLY. No time to explain but this is fucking life and death. No, really. Call me RIGHT NOW! Naomi "_

I had to read it three times before it sank in. What the _fuck_?

…

Naomi

When my phone rang I nearly had a fucking heart attack. I'd just about given up and was folding tops and pairs of jeans into my travel bag. I'd been told in not at all subtle terms that Cook had to stay here while he was on bail. But I was fucked if I was staying too. With Emily out there being hunted and only the morose Cook to keep me company, I would go stir crazy in no time. I snatched at the phone and thumbed the answer button with shaky fingers.

"Emily?" I shouted in a voice hoarse with fear.

"N...Naomi?" she answered nervously. I'm guessing she expected a volley of abuse from yours truly, but I was so relieved to hear her voice that I almost kissed the fucking handset. She was alive...the goon obviously hadn't got there yet.

"Emily...listen to me. Where are you?" I said quickly. There would be time for recriminations and anger later.

"At...at St Pancras...the station?" she said pointlessly. Its not as if anyone visits St Pancras for anything other than travel, is it?

"You need to get out of there...like **right** away. I don't have time to explain right now, but I need you to start walking...got it?"

There was a pause while she processed what I was gabbling, but I heard the sound of her breathing increase as she started walking. The sounds of the concourse...people going about their normal business, working, holidaying… made it even more surreal. I was about to tell her an assassin was on her tail. Even as I tried to formulate the words in my head, it sounded more ridiculous than ever. But it wasn't a joke, and the guy sent to 'rub out' her and Effy wasn't either. I swallowed hard and spoke again.

"Listen...is the battery on your phone topped up?"

"Err…." I heard a rustle as she juggled the phone in her hand. "...yeah...3/4 full...why?"

"Because I need you to stay on the line all the time, until I meet you...OK?"

Again the pregnant silence. In her position, I might have been sceptical about all this dramatic talk too.

"What's this about Naomi...Look...I'm so sorry about..."

I cut her off. Apologies could just join the queue behind anger and recrimination. No time for any of that fuckery right now.

"Forget the sorrys Em..." I said harshly, instantly kicking myself for the casual use of her nickname "...I meant what I said...this is life or death. I'll explain it all later. Right now I want you to take a taxi from outside the station. Get the driver to drop you in Highbury Grove… its just up from Highbury and Islington Station. There's a school and opposite there is Highbury Fields. Go into the park and wait for me at the cafe there...I think its called Oasis or something like that. Anyway, there's always people there...mainly cyclists and fucking joggers comparing neon Lycra...can you do that? I'll be there right after you, but I need to know that you are OK and safe...keep the phone on, even while you're in the cab?"

I could hear the catch in her voice as she started to realise this wasn't any joke. My voice must have betrayed how scared I was.

"Right...Highbury Grove...the park and Oasis Cafe?...B...but Naomi, what _is_ it...you sound really scared. Are you OK...is someone with you?"

I shook my head, then smacked my forehead with an open palm. Gestures don't do much for phone calls.

"Look Em...like I said, no time for a proper explanation. But you are in danger and so is…?"

" _Effy_? Why is Effy in danger?" she said sharply. I groaned in anger at myself for even bringing her girlfriend into this conversation. I could hear that she'd stopped walking and let out a squeal of frustration at my own stupidity.

"No _time_ to explain Em. Keep fucking walking...I'm begging you. You need to keep moving. Get in the fucking taxi and I'll tell you more, but I need you to keep going?"

The sound of her breathing increased again as she hurried out of the station. I heard traffic and people talking, then a door slammed and Emily's voice.

" _Highbury Grove..next to Highbury Fields_?" I heard her say. Then the diesel engine revved hard and the taxi pulled away. I let out a sigh of relief. For the next few minutes she would be safe enough in the cab. I realised I'd been gripping the handset so hard my knuckles were white and winced as I relaxed my hold.

Emily started talking again. Fast and scared.

"Naomi...what's happened? Why are you so frightened. Did they let you go then...and what about Cook…?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but she interrupted again.

"And...and Effy...why should _she_ be in danger too Naoms...you're really scaring me?"

I let her finish, then started to explain.

"Look...the raid on my apartment...it wasn't just a random thing. You know Cook is dealing...but I made him promise never to bring any of his business or gear back here. I know I should have made him…." I started to fill up and had to wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. "...look this all can wait until we meet up, but short version...it was Effy who set Cook up for the arrest. It was her way of making sure I was implicated and out of the way. She knows about us Em...we should have realised it was never gonna be a secret for long with fucking Stonem and that weird sixth sense thing she has going on. But she picked the wrong guy to piss off. Cook's boss, Max?...He's a proper gangster, not some lamo Johnny White type. He knows she did it and he's sent some fucking assassin to kill her...and anyone who's with her at the time?"

There was a loud clunk and then a lot of scrabbling. Finally Emily's voice, tight and trembling came back on the line.

"Dropped the phone...shit...I mean… are you _serious_ Naomi? A fucking hit man? What sort of people are you involved with...Effy said..."

I bit my lip in frustration. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut until I saw her in person, but it was too late now.

"Em...Em...listen. I was never involved with Cook's boss in any way. My dickhead ex boyfriend was only ever a low level street dealer for Max. But there was some sort of big sting operation going on in the Met to get Max. Cook just let himself to be set up by Effy at exactly the wrong time. She thought she was just rubbing me out of the picture...making it look like I was involved in the dealing so you backed off. That dawn raid was all about showing you that I was a very bad idea...and it worked...didn't it hun...how **was** Paris anyway... _romantic_?"

I knew I shouldn't have said that, but I was on the defensive and it stung.

There was a long pause while Emily registered what I'd said. At least I could still hear the taxi moving. Every minute meant she was closer to me and further from whoever was chasing her.

"You have the right to be angry about that Naoms. You're right...she set us all up. I knew she knew more about it all than she admitted. I should have been stronger, stayed and waited for the police to realise you weren't involved...but as usual, she played me"

I heard bitterness in the last words.

"Played us all Em...but this is serious shit now. Max is determined to get rid of anyone who might be a threat to his freedom. Effy made the mistake of crossing a real live gangster. But she's in Paris...maybe she'll be OK for now. But you're not. You're here...in London. I can't risk him finding you. So wait for me at the cafe...I'll be there in ten?"

"Yeah...yeah OK" she said quietly "… we definitely need to talk Naoms"

We certainly do, I thought grimly. I swept my overnight bag up and, keeping my phone lodged under my chin, left the apartment, not bothering to tell Cook where I was going. He was still staring moodily out of the window anyway.

I found a cab in seconds...Canary Wharf being a Mecca for fares, and within another minute, the taxi was on its way to Highbury. What the fuck I was going to do when I got there was anyone's business…

...


	20. Chapter 20

Paris, 3pm local time

The French Police Captain stood over a now drained roll top bath and sucked his teeth as he viewed the pale corpse of Elizabeth Stonem lying at the bottom. Her blue eyes stared disconcertingly up at him, their normal intensity cloudy now with sudden death, whites crazed with vivid red from burst blood vessels.

" A pretty one, Elise?" he murmured almost apologetically, as if it mattered now what the dead girl looked like. His petite blonde colleague shrugged as she moved efficiently round the bathroom, eyes taking in every small detail. They'd been a team for a year in the homicide squad now, and she'd grown used to his sometimes offbeat remarks at the scene of a murder.

" _Was_ anyway..." she said briefly, before gently lifting the girls chin with the side of a pencil, revealing the livid mark of a ligature. Apart from that ugly blemish, the girls body was completely unmarked. "...looks like a professional hit, boss. No real sign of a struggle...not even water on the floor? This one knew what he was doing. In, kill and out. Any leads yet?"

The middle aged police captain shrugged this time.

"Not yet,. The fucking manager is more concerned about his precious guests catching sight of the nasty _flic's_ in the corridors. Better chase the CCTV up, otherwise there'll be a 'technical fault'? Murders are bad for business. Specially pretty English girls. _Fuck_ …" he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief the size of a hand towel "...just when I thought this shift would be nice and quiet. Michelle has her sister over for the weekend and there's that 2007 Margeaux in the cellar...they'll drink me fucking dry?"

The woman shrugged again indifferently, still checking for anything she could pinpoint as being out of place. But the killer had been quick, thorough and neat. Just the corpse and the precise strangulation mark to go on.

"D'accord… she said flatly "...Leon is downstairs now, going through the footage? We should at least be able to see who this kids last visitor was. What about the other guest...the Fitch girl isn't it? The concierge said they checked in together yesterday. Booked in for two nights. Last night this one..." she indicated the body in the bath "...virtually had to carry Mlle Fitch girl up here? Sounds like they had a really good night. I'll check with the the taxi's outside...maybe we can find out where they went to get so smashed?"

The captain shook his head.

"Do it anyway, but I'm guessing this was a professional job, it didn't have much to do with pretty little English lesbians getting totally _ivre_ in a Rive Gauche sex bar?"

The woman looked up at him sharply even as she methodically carried on checking the body for anything that might indicate a struggle. The SOCO team was waiting patiently outside in their all over white suits, ready to take photo's, hair samples, nail scrapings and anything else that might help them find out what had happened to the girl.

"Lesbians?" she asked mildly.

"Yes...that was the other bit of gossip I heard before coming up here. The bell boy said this one..." he pointed at the corpse "...asked him last night for the best place two gay girls could have a _really_ good time in Paris?"

"Ahhh" the woman said..."... _right_ "

Neither was particularly judgemental or shocked at the information. Sexual orientation was irrelevant at this point. It was Paris after all. It isn't just straight couples who find the capitals more... _interactive_...bars fun after all.

"Right" the woman said again, straightening up and putting her pencil back in her jacket pocket. "...I'm going downstairs to check the CCTV with Leon. Any news on where this Emily Fitch girl is now?"

The man shook his head

"No...but it looks like she had a lucky escape...at least temporarily. Whoever the killer is and whoever he's working for...he missed her this morning. The bellboy said she left early today...with a suitcase. Lovers tiff perhaps...maybe the 'entertainment.' was a bit _too_ entertaining?"

"Maybe" the woman said slowly "...bit convenient for her though? Weekend away...a night of alcohol and threesome shagging...then Mlle Fitch leaves in a proper hurry. A little while later her girlfriend gets offed by a hired killer. I think we need to have words with the missing girl. Shall I notify the ports?"

"No point...the maid didn't find the body until well after lunch. The do not disturb sign was on the door all morning. I reckon Miss Fitch is back in the UK already. Better call Scotland Yard though. They'll need to hold her for questioning?"

"And the press? I saw that bitch Mirielle from La Chaine Info in the lobby when I came up. She'll be asking lots of the same questions we are?"

The man grunted in disapproval.

"Fucking vultures. Just give them the bare bones to gnaw on. ' _Girl found dead,_ _possibly_ _murder_. _One witness_ _still_ _unaccounted for_ '. You can let them know her name. Can't hurt, she's not going to be in France by now anyway".

The woman smiled thinly.

"Right boss...see you back at the _Surete_?"

…

Emily

Its fucking freezing here and the woman behind the ramp is starting to give me funny looks. I guess most of her customers are of the hit and run variety. Since I've been here, a succession of identikit Lycra clones have either jogged or cycled up to this cafe. Quick coffee or bottle of overpriced water and off they go. Muppets. Women of a certain age and men who really ought to know better than to cram their bloated bodies into skin tight neon fabric. Its like a convention for overstuffed sausages here. My two cups of espresso are unusual though, and its attracting the sort of attention I thought I was supposed to be avoiding?

My head is still spinning with the possibility that Effy has pissed off someone so badly that he would want to actually do her some physical harm. I just hope Naomi is being over dramatic about all this.

Just as I resign myself into ordering another strong coffee, mostly for internal warmth, I see a black cab pull up by the gates and a flustered Naomi almost fall out of the back door, throwing a note at the pissed off looking cabbie. The woman behind the counter raises an eyebrow at me as I hesitate in front of her. To be honest, I have enough caffeine inside me already to keep me wired until midnight, but I ignore her. Overpriced coffee will have to wait. I watch Naomi almost run to where I'm standing and step away from the nosy owner to meet her.

"Fuck Em...sorry...just my luck to pick the one cabbie in London with no sense of direction. Jesus, I haven't been here for years, but even I knew my way round Highbury Corner...if I hadn't stopped him, we'd be in fucking Dalston by now?"

I took in her frazzled appearance and the cold chill that had invaded my body since I answered her text dropped another few degrees. She looked genuinely scared.

"Naoms...what _is_ it...you're really freaking me out?" I asked as she opened her mouth to go on with her tirade about useless taxi drivers.

She grabbed my arm and marched me away from the earshot of my not so friendly barista.

"Look...lets walk...across here?...There's a bench right opposite the gates. If anyone comes into the park, we'll see them?"

I let her lead me to an almost clean green metal bench near the tennis courts. They were all empty, so at least we had the privacy she craved. Sitting down, she gripped my cold hands in hers, leaning close to me. I got a whiff of pure unscented Naomi as she did and my heart did its normal flip flop at her closeness.

"I wasn't joking Em. Cook got out of jail this morning and told me everything. Effy set up the sting with some copper she contacted...fuck knows how she knew who to ring...you two only just moved here? Anyway...she got Cook wasted, then arranged for him to sell some powder to this undercover narc, apparently so he'd lead her to the proper stash. And before you ask, I have _no_ idea where that is...I told you...I made Cook swear on his little brothers life never to involve me or the apartment in his dirty little deals...But it all went tits up….Cook might have been stoned but he's no mug. He refused to fold when the cop tried to blackmail him into ratting on his boss. So she nicked him for possession with intent to supply. Still serious, but not the big win they were looking for. But Cook's boss, Max, has eyes and ears in the Met from top to bottom. Someone recorded the call Effy made to the drug squad and let Max know where it came from?"

I sat with my mouth open during this shocking revelation. Bad enough Cook was a full time drug dealer...I'd thought naively that he was still like the soft lad he was at Roundview...bit of part time dealing to top up the Saturday night stash. But it sounded like he was part of a proper criminal gang now. I shivered as Naomi carried on squeezing my cold hands.

"So..this Max guy?...He got his tame brief to get me bail by the way...I fucking _crapped_ myself when he turned up at the flat so I could be suitably appreciative for his help…?"

I gasped at that, but Naomi shook her head at my missing the point spectacularly.

"No...no, _NO_ Em...not like _that_...he wasn't after my sorry body as payback. I think he just wanted to be sure I wasn't about to grass him up like Effy had. Not that I had _any_ intention of doing that. Proper scary fucker, I can tell you. All smooth talk and expensive aftershave, but eyes like a fucking shark. No way..."

She paused to look around the park in case we had any unexpected guests, but apart from the off neon jogger, we were still alone.

"Anyway...short version. Cook gets out on bail today. Comes back to the flat. I start to tell him that its over between him and me...despite the fact that the girl I love..." she looked at me with icy eyes "...had fucked of to Paris with the person who started this shit storm in the first place?"

I looked down at my hands, still inside her grip, but she wasn't holding on to me quite as tightly now. I guess I deserved that?

Looking back up, I opened my mouth to say sorry, but she cut me off.

"No Em...time for us to sort out that shit later. The worst is yet to come. Cook told me that this Max guy has foolproof method of dealing with people who cross him...they fucking disappear. Like proper disappear...not a one way ticket to Grimsby...more a bullet in the back of the head?"

I had to say something then. This was so surreal, I expected a director to say " _cut_ " at any moment. Things like this didn't happen to people like me...like Naomi...did they?

"B...but Effy...she's still in Paris. I left her there?" I swallowed thickly...how much of my own sordid story did I want to reveal right now. Last nights drug fuelled orgy was still making my stomach churn. If Naomi discovered right this minute that I hadn't just pissed off to France, leaving her to deal with the cluster fuck we had started, but also spent most of last night between two gorgeous French whores, screaming my delight at their oral expertise, how was she likely to react?

Naomi prevented me spilling my guts there and then by interrupting again. Thank God.

"Effy will be fine in Paris...I don't suppose even Max has hit men all across Europe Em. I'm guessing the danger is here, in London. We have to disappear for a few days...let the dust settle? With Cook having to stay at the flat as part of his bail conditions, and me just on police bail...Max's expensive solicitor told me they have absolutely nothing to charge me with, so I'm in the clear, we just have to make sure we're not just sitting ducks. You can call Effy and warn her...I suppose we owe her _that_ much?"

Naomi's face told me she forced that concession out through gritted teeth.

"...but that's all. She started this shit and she can make her own arrangements to stray out of the way of creepy assassins. If we can stay under the radar for a week say...Max will know neither of us is doing a canary impression to the cops. Cook will beg him a bit, take his six months in the can, or whatever he gets and we can all go back to being boring young women again. I don't know about you, but I'm not suited to this fucking Jason Bourne thing?"

What could I say? It all sounded a bit optimistic really. I have no idea how a fucking hit man operates, but it seems likely you can't just turn him off like a light switch. Surely a wodge of cash would be involved? But having no better plan, I just went along with Naomi's suggestion. Story of my life, I think you'll agree. Its what's been getting me in the shit since I was 5.

"OK," I said reluctantly "I don't like hiding out, but dodging hit men isn't exactly my strong point either. But even though I think Effy is a cunt for setting this all up...I'm not that much of a cow I won't warn her?"

"Yeah...I guess" Naomi said coldly "...she is a cunt...but I don't want her death on my conscience either. Why don't you just text her?"

The coward in me cheered at that idea. No awkward conversation with my soon to be ex about the killer sounded just fine. Not to mention the definite possibility that Effy would rake up last night for sure. I might have totalled the USB stick with my protracted shame on it, but no one ever said Effy was stupid. She'd definitely have a back up...just in case I did something uncharacteristically brave, like running out on her?

I pulled out my cheap pay as you go mobile and sent her a text. Her number wasn't in the contacts, but it was engraved on my memory. Old habits die hard?

" _Effy. Its Emily. I'm not coming back to you. But I owe you this much. The guy you screwed over about the drugs has put some fucking hit man onto you. This isn't a joke. Check out right now and disappear for a while. Don't try to contact me. The shit you pulled last night has backfired. We're done"._

I sat back after writing it and sighed heavily. So much for new starts. Naomi was looking at me quizzically, so I passed her the phone when the message sent tone bleeped. She read it slowly then started to say something, but obviously thought better of it. Like she said...the shit between us could wait.

"Come on" she said instead, suddenly all business "..I grabbed a load of cash before I left the apartment...enough to get us a train ticket to somewhere not here...not in London?"

I didn't ask where the cash had come from, not then anyway. She wa already on her feet and heading towards Highbury and Islington station. I jumped up and followed her quickly. Wherever she went from now on...so did I.

…

In Paris, at the headquarters of the Police Nationale...previously the Surete, the slim blonde detective Elise jumped a little at the sharp tone coming from a mobile phone in a plastic pouch on her desk. Putting on a pair of surgical gloves, she unzipped the bag and carefully cupped the warbling handset. The screen showed an unknown contact, so she waited patiently for the tune to finish before tapping the read message icon.

" _Effy. Its Emily. I'm not coming back to you. But I owe you this much. The guy you screwed over about the drugs has put some fucking hit man onto you. This isn't a joke. Check out right now and disappear for a while. Don't try to contact me. The shit you pulled last night has backfired. We're done"._

She read it twice before smiling to herself. Well well...drugs and hit men. It seemed that the missing Mlle Fitch had a lot of questions to answer. At least the detective knew Emily Fitch was still alive.

For now.


	21. Chapter 21

**Thanks very much for the reviews. I really appreciate you guys taking the time to comment. As always, mistakes are all my own horrible work, but Skins and the characters remain someone else's property. I've just borrowed them for a bit.**

Emily

"Great _Yarmouth_?" I spluttered doubtfully as Naomi bought us rail tickets at Euston. We'd taken the Tube from Highbury and Islington after walking briskly from the park through the usual London street crowds. Even though it was early afternoon, there were still plenty of people about. I had the time, while I was trying to keep up with Naomi's longer strides, to offer a silent thanks for that fact. Crowds meant we were harder to spot, I guess. Still no reply from Effy, but that didn't surprise me. Knowing her, the warning text would be met with an arched eyebrow and a shrug. Not one to panic, my ex (and how odd _that_ sounded, even in my head). I hoped she'd start to take this seriously nevertheless. It'd taken me a few minutes to get my head round the idea that this Max guy would do anything so drastic as order us killed, but one look at Naomi's grim face as she virtually pulled me along the road by my hand wiped out any doubts I might have had at her shocking news.

"Yeah...don't fucking laugh Em" she huffed adorably as she handed me my ticket. "My mum used to take me up there for 'holidays' in the summer when I was about 11 or 12...I hated it, stuck in some draughty caravan with a useless TV signal while she ponced off with random local hippies to protest about something insignificant. But its safe...no one but me and mum...and you now...know about it. Even Cook has no idea I've ever been to fucking Norfolk. If this hit man or whatever you call him is on your trail, I don't think a caravan park in East Anglia will be the first place he'll be looking?"

I cringed a bit at the caravan reference. Me and Katie had been subjected to caravans too when we were younger, even if my stuck up mother sniffed dismissively at the working class cachet surrounding _that_ sort of holiday. She used to insist my dad book the biggest, most luxurious unit available on the site for us. Way too big of course, but it was the only way Jenna Fitch would soil her shoes in something that down market.

"Yeah, I s'pose..." I said dully, "...are we stopping for buckets and spades first?" regretting my sarcasm immediately as her face fell.

Naomi's eyes flashed fire at me. She pulled me into the first compartment on the waiting train, even though our booked seats were way down at the front.

"Em... _listen_ to me?" she said fiercely "...this is no fucking joke, I'm putting my life on the line here too for you? If this guy catches up with us, I doubt he'll want any live witnesses to your execution?"

I swallowed hard at that. It was only then I think I began to realise just how far Naomi had stuck her neck out for me today. All she'd really had to do was sit tight back at the apartment and she would've been safe as houses. Cook would have got his shortish sentence in the slammer eventually, she wouldn't have faced any charges herself and Max would go back to being the feared Godfather of Docklands again. Apart from some separation issues with JC the dealer/boyfriend, life would have been back to normal for her.

Effy on the other hand...and me too if I'd been unlucky enough to be in the same room as her… would be pushing up daisies in some remote muddy field by the time Cook was released . Missing, presumed dead, isn't that what the press call it? Cold dread spread through me as we stood face to face in that empty train carriage. My brain was gradually waking up to the fact that because of Effy's stupid blackmail efforts, I would probably still be with my girlfriend in London right now if I hadn't been warned. Even if Naomi was right and Max's assassin wasn't a frequent user of Eurostar, I'm guessing we would've had a _very_ unpleasant surprise waiting for us at our apartment very soon. A 9mm surprise.

"Sorry Naoms...it's the shock I think...makes me say even more dumb things than usual?"

Her face softened, then she cupped my cheeks in both hands. I shivered a bit at how cold they were, despite the warmish weather

"I meant what I said Em….when this is all over, me and you need to have a serious conversation about certain… stuff. But right now, my priority is keeping you and me alive until the heat dies down. Kay?"

I nodded hard, then leaned forward impulsively. She allowed me the briefest of gentle kisses before pulling back. I missed the softness of those full lips immediately. But I understood her reluctance. I hadn't earned the right to expect any more from her. In the back of my mind lurked the sordid secret I carried inside about what happened in Paris after all. She stared at me as I blinked stinging tears away.

But happily, she misread the reasons for my distress.

"Hey, hey Em...its _OK_...we'll sort things out. But for now…?"

She tugged me by the hand again and we walked the full length of the almost deserted train to the very first carriage. Finding our seats, we sat down opposite each other and Naomi spent the next few minutes on her mobile tablet, arranging accommodation for us in far off sunny Yarmouth.

…

Naomi

I hoped I sounded more optimistic than I felt back then. Luckily, Emily started dozing as soon as the train rumbled out of Euston, which was a bonus. I suppose she'd be understandably tired after leaving Paris so early and travelling virtually all day already. A stab of jealousy flared hotly in me at even the thought of Paris, I suppressed it with difficulty. I know how Effy operates. She's even more devious than she was back at college, hard as that is to imagine. Back then it was boys she mostly bewitched then coolly discarded, but I have first hand knowledge of her ability to enrapture the girl sitting opposite me too. Once she'd set her sights on Emily after I'd fucked everything up at 17, I was toast. And the situation hadn't improved _that_ much since. I still had the bitter memory of Emily's ecstatic cries back at the apartment block, even without Effy's recent sly manipulation of both of us. The question of whether Emily'd succumbed willingly (again) to Miss Stonem's seductive techniques in the city of love was still very much to be answered. The only crumb of comfort I hung on to was the fact that Emily had left her of her own free will. That was something...wasn't it?

So instead of giving in to the sort of dark thoughts that path led me down, I tried again to book somewhere for us to stay. It was short notice and although it was still off season, a lot of places were already fully booked. But eventually I managed to find somewhere with vacancies. I debated at first whether it was safe to use my credit card online, given that I was now just as much a fugitive as Emily, but decided I had no choice. Cook would give me a bit of leeway if he could, even though I'd effectively rained on his parade from a great height. But I still knew him better than anyone. If asked, he'd cover for me for a while. Underneath that ' _couldn't give a flying fuck_ ' exterior, the boy who comforted me in my darkest hours back in college was still in there...just.

The booking site confirmed the payment and I relaxed a bit. We had an open ended lease on the quaintly named 'Falcon Holiday Home'. Basically a posh name for a 4 berth caravan. But I happily paid the extra for the so called 'luxury' fixtures and fittings shown on the site. It had the added advantage of being at the rear of the plot, furthest from the main road and was placed in a small cul de sac. Just the job, I thought...no passing trade. We could settle in there, attracting very little interest. It is 2018 after all, I told myself, girls go on holiday together all the time. We'd just have to tone down the…. _fuck_ , I thought as the possibilities of lots of alone time with Emily flashed through my overheated brain...there you go again Naomi. She's not yours...remember?

The reality of what our situation really was dampened my libido a treat. So after ducking along the carriage to find the trolley, grabbed two no doubt disgusting coffees from the bored attendant, I got back and settled in my seat. In less than five minutes, coffee untouched, I was asleep like Emily.

I woke up a couple of hours later when the train lurched a bit as it turned the bend into Norwich Station. It hadn't changed much since I came up here ten years ago, so after waking a slightly grumpy Emily, I walked with her to the back of the station and found the platform for the branch line to Yarmouth.

You know something about East Anglia? Its fucking flat...as flat as Kiera Knightleys chest. Not even a perky nipple to break the monotony. The train was already at the platform, so within minutes we were chugging out of Norwich on the local diesel train towards the coast. I wished I had drunk my now cold coffee, because there was nothing as sophisticated as a dining car on this old loco. But it was too late.

Emily had perked up a bit now she was rested and I spent the journey pointing out little waypoints. Nothing major...like I said, Norfolk is mostly flat and pretty featureless...but there was the odd windmill and eventually Breydon Water to show her. In less than half an hour, we were pulling into Great Yarmouth station. As soon as we got off and humped our bags out of the Victorian concourse, memories flooded my senses. The sound of hungry seagulls overhead. The smell of the sea, already taking me back to my pre teen years. Like Norwich station, the town sounded and smelled like it always had...a backwater...a faded Victorian holiday resort, down at heel but strangely comforting. I had time to wonder why I had chosen London to live in at all. Noisy, dirty and coldly indifferent. A big city, full of people who I'd never know. At least places like Yarmouth had some form of identity...a place where most people knew their neighbours…

But I had no more time for introspection after we jumped in a cab. I knew the holiday park was less than half a mile away, so it was only a few minutes later the taxi pulled up in front of the park reception. I left Emily in the cab and went straight through the double doors to check in. Once they'd validated my Visa card and given me keys and a map of the site (and a brochure with all the local 'attractions' listed on it), I walked quickly back to the taxi and gave him directions for 'our' caravan.

…

Emily

Well this is nice I thought as Naomi let me into the caravan. They called it a 'holiday home' but believe me, its still a caravan. It might be well furnished and have TV's and microwave ovens, but the floor still creaks a bit when you walk on it and I wouldn't like to stay here during a harsh winter? But today, with the sun breaking through the white clouds above us and the windows letting in a gentle spring breeze, it feels...homely. Yeah...homely.

I dumped my bag in the double bedroom, with its comfortable looking king sized bed freshly made up, then turned to see Naomi staring at me strangely from the doorway. My mouth dropped open as I realised I had just assumed we would be sharing the room…and the bed. Stupid me.

I saw her mouth twist with indecision and the patented Campbell lip bite told me she was thinking hard. I braced myself for disappointment. When she stayed silent, I sighed in resignation, then went to pick up my bag again. I knew there was another bedroom at the other end, so I started to walk back towards the door.

"No" she said as I passed her. "No Em...this is me just being stupid"

"W...what...but I thought...oh, sorry" I mumbled inanely. I don't know what I actually thought, but I knew I had assumed too much, as fucking usual.

"I mean, no Em...it's fine, _really_...we'll sleep in here together? We're both adults...yeah?...it doesn't have to mean anything...just as friends…?"

Right, that's true I thought, both 'adults'. Adults who have never once shared a bed without screwing each others brains out most of the night. What could _possibly_ go wrong?

…

Cook's arm wobbled slightly as he refilled two shot glasses with neat tequila. His tastes were still familiar to anyone who knew him as a seventeen year old back in Bristol. But he didn't feel much like giving one of his famous wolf howls tonight. Even as he slopped the amber liquid into the heavy glasses, his mind refused to play ball. This was about forgetting, masking. It's what he always did when he'd fucked up. Do it all over again. He's Cook after all...the successor to his useless father. The bad boy.

But everything in the apartment reminded him of what he'd lost playing the fool one too many times. Naomi might be gone...probably for good...but her presence was everywhere. That was their reality. He earned the cash and she made him a home, a safe place...a sanctuary. It was only now...drunk and getting drunker...that the awful truth was setting in. Even the bonus of a gorgeous woman in the flat, matching him shot for shot, wasn't making things OK. He _missed_ her, that sarcastic, moody cow. Missed her more than he could say.

He'd spent the past few years in a bit of a daze, unable to come to terms with the fact that the girl he had coveted since college was in his life… in his bed.

Permanently.

OK, it was a half arsed relationship, even in the good times. He knew Naomi still carried a torch for the little redhead from Roundview. He knew that whatever he did, she would always be 'the one' for his girlfriend. But Emily was in the past...swept away by the predatory Elizabeth Stonem for good. But fate and sheer bad luck had shattered that little bit of comfort in one spectacular night.

Even before that, he'd known he was playing with fire when he suggested that threesome weeks ago. Putting petrol on the flames, isn't that what they call it? Watching Naomi go at that random with hunger and almost desperate need had been exciting at first... _very_ exciting. His teenage self would have been whooping with delight at seeing his girlfriend making out with another woman before his turn came. But in the end it proved a hollow victory, getting Naomi to lose those iron clad inhibitions. He'd almost been an irrelevance by midnight...used and discarded...a human dildo. Watching them go at it again...all smooth limbs and breathless moans, while he slunk out of the room...taught him a lesson he should have learned better. Naomi is bisexual thats true. But her hunger for a female lover was stronger by far than her desire for him...or any other man.

Her Saturday night surrender to his needs were more a duty for her than fun. Looking back, he should have realised sooner that eventually she would be stolen from him. But when Emily appeared, it was just a matter of hours until he did.

Tipping the glass back and downing the neat spirit in one, he winced at the harsh burn, then looked up to see the smartly dressed woman next to him do the same. She winced too, but he was gratified to see she was still keeping up. He really needed a drinking companion tonight. Naomi was fuck knows where...probably consoling herself with...well, that thought could just fuck right off, he thought bitterly. Whatever...she was gone and tonight he needed to get hammered and forget...or try to. Tomorrow would bring hangovers and cold reality. But tomorrow could fucking wait. He lifted the half empty Tequila Gold bottle, only swaying a little, and smiled at the woman next to him.

"Another?" he said. Considering the amount he had already consumed, a normal male would already be comatose, but Cook was no ordinary male. Add to that the three lines of top drawer coke he'd hoovered up his nostrils so far and he was surprisingly OK.

"Sure" Rebecca smiled, offering her empty glass to him. She'd arrived just after dark with the bottle of Tequila and a couple of grams of excellent charlie. Cook was suitably grateful for company, even if he knew she was probably only here to make sure Max's errant employee stayed exactly where he was put. The drugs were just the icing on the cake. After the raid, he knew it would be even more stupid to have anything illegal in the apartment now. So he showed her in, and now three hours later, he was suitably buzzed with booze and humming with the kick from the cocaine. Life was still shit, but stoned and pissed, the hard edges were easier to ignore.

She leaned closer and Cook got a whiff of expensive perfume. For a second his head swam at the sensation of being this close to a beautiful woman. His eyes flicked from hers to the small amount of cleavage he could see under that crisp white blouse. Always the professional, Rebecca had arrived in a business suit, grey and obviously Bond Street. The jacket was hanging in the hallway now, but the tight blouse and pencil skirt still made him lick his lips.

Forcing his head up, he met her eyes again. They sparkled with amusement at his obvious perving.

"My face is up here James...and the glass is down there...but thanks for the compliment?" she smirked knowingly.

He grinned back, unabashed. Flirting and admiring beautiful women was hard wired into his soul. This was something he was good at...always had been. Even tonight, abandoned by Naomi and on bail, his natural characteristics were evident.

"Sorry babe...force of habit. Can't blame a boy for trying...I know you play for the other team and all that...you have that in common with Nao..."

Rebecca's eyes flashed at the mention of the missing girlfriend.

" _Where_ did you say she was again Cookie?" she asked lightly.

"Gone to her mums" Cook lied "...said she needed some space from all this shit. "Gone back to Bristol...left me here alone?"

His face dropped as the woman laid her hand over his as it held the bottle.

"She'll be back James...she loves you?" This time it was Rebecca who was lying and they both knew it.

"Naah...we both know thats a crock of shit 'Becca...she _likes_ me...but it ain't the same as love, we both know that. Soon as that little Fitch girl arrived, I knew it was all gonna go tits up…?" Cook stopped and chuckled at his own unintended pun. "..yeah tits up...thats about right. Two pairs of tits...always trumps a stiff dick babe…?"

Her hand tightened on his.

"Well that might be true James..and I can't deny I prefer girls for fun too...most of the time...but who knows? Things might happen to change the future…?"

His mind swam as the meaning of her words hit home. The hit man...Max?

"Fuck...is Naomi in any proper danger Becca?...I don't want anything to happen to her even if..." he said quickly, putting the bottle back on the table with a clunk.

"Shhh" she soothed, still holding onto his hand "...that's definitely _not_ gonna happen James. I can't do anything about this Effy girl..she signed her own death warrant when she involved Max in her stupid games...but there's no reason for Naomi to get hurt. The guy has strict instructions not to cause collateral damage. No...Naomi will be fine. She's down in Bristol you say…?"

Cook nodded after a seconds hesitation.

"Well thats OK then...you just relax...have another drink James...we have all evening to finish the bottle...and who knows..." she leaned over again, letting the glimpse of her creamy breasts grab his attention again "...maybe I can make an exception for once...sometimes a girl needs something a bit...firmer... to make her smile...yeah?"

Cook swallowed hard and returned her knowing expression. Maybe the evening would turn out better than he thought…?

…

Two hours later, Cook was a much happier bunny. Underneath him, a naked Rebecca was thrusting up eagerly to meet his driving hips, long legs hooked over his waist. Her designer nails dug into his sides as his movements grew uncoordinated. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold on until she came, but she was driving him to distraction, looking up at him with those wide unfocussed eyes.

"Fuck James... _such_ a big boy...so fucking hard...that cock is gonna make me come again...you _want_ to make me come again, don't you?"

Oh I definitely do, Cook thought, his stomach rippling as he tried to keep the right angle over her writhing body. Despite her sexuality, it seemed she was just as happy with a cock inside her as a female tongue. Again she raked his sides, making him hiss in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Jesus...you love it Becca...fucking _love_ it...so tight...so wet" he gasped, pistoning in and out of her clinging heat faster and faster. It wouldn't be long now. He could feel his balls contracting and the unstoppable tingle in his cock. Soon...very soon.

He moaned again as she lifted her head and bit down on his nipple...again the mixture of pleasure and pain surged through him…

" _Fuck_ " he said loudly "Can't hold on...grab my balls babe...grab my _fucking_ balls...I'm gonna..."

He jerked into her hard, deeper even than he had before. She threw her head back and cried out, reaching underneath him to squeeze his balls just hard enough to make him lose it. Again and again he jerked, still buried in her to the hilt. Her cunt squeezed him rhythmically as his orgasm peaked. Slowly he reduced his movements until he was just gliding slickly in and out of her, gasping and staring at the bedroom wall over her head. Cook felt her fingers release him, then snake quickly between their bodies, moving then in quick efficient strokes. After a few seconds, she cried out too, her orgasm less dramatic than his, but satisfying nevertheless.

They separated slowly, carefully, His wilting cock held in his hand to keep the condom on. He got off the bed and walked stiffly into the bathroom. Rebecca heard the clang of the waste bin as he disposed of the evidence. Her face twisted in faint disgust at the necessary mechanics post intercourse. This was the bit she hated most. The fucking had been OK actually... Cook was a considerate lover, despite his cave man image. She rarely indulged in cock nowadays...women were far more exciting in bed, but true to his word, he'd not left her unsatisfied. Two orgasms in a night were unusual for her...at least with a man.

After he appeared at the bathroom door, she got off the damp bedsheets and crossed by him, closing the bathroom door firmly behind her. Opening the small cabinet over the sink, she was grateful to see a bottle of mouthwash unopened. Unscrewing the top, she swilled her mouth vigorously with the strong liquid. The five minutes reluctant fellatio had been the worst bit of the evening, but she'd been told in no uncertain terms by her boss to be the perfect shag for his star employee...and Cook was big on oral, it seemed. Luckily he was too impatient to get his dick inside her in the end...she didn't think, even for Max's massive salary, she could finish a man off that way any more. Too many teenage memories of having her head held in a guys lap, masking her disgust as she swallowed.

Refreshed, she waited a few more minutes nevertheless before slowly opening the door and peering out.

Cook was on his back, a thin sheet covering his lower body. She smiled in gratitude at that small mercy. A stiff dick might be useful sometimes, but a flaccid one was just about the ugliest thing on a human body she could think of.

His chest rose and fell regularly. Again she smiled. With ¾ of a bottle of Tequila inside him, he should sleep till morning. She had time to gather her things and get dressed while he snored. Home and a long soak in a bubble bath beckoned. The ache between her legs would need a lot of soothing.

…

A hundred or so miles away, the occupants of another double bed lay uneasily side by side. Neither slept. The proximity of another body... _that_ body...so close made sleep hard to find. Naomi and Emily looked up at the bland ceiling, wondering what the morning would bring.

…

On Naomi's tablet in the other room, the almost silent alert went off from the BBC News channel. Neither girl heard the gentle ping. Probably just as well.

" _The body of an English tourist has been discovered in a Paris hotel bedroom. Initial reports say that foul play is suspected. Police in France and England have asked the public to assist them in finding the young woman's missing companion...a Miss Emily Fitch...who they believe may be able to assist them in their enquiries"_

XXX


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks again for the reviews. Makes a difference!**

Paris - Place Louis Lépine

The blonde police lieutenant switched on her desk lamp and waved airily goodnight as the last two of her colleagues left for the evening. She should be going home too, but the thought of reheated left overs and boring TV dramas wasn't overly appealing. There was still no sign of the missing Emily Fitch...in Paris or in London. An email on her laptop from Scotland Yard showed the British police had visited the apartment she shared with the dead girl, but she wasn't there and there had been nothing to show where she'd gone either. There was an APB out for her detention, at this point as a witness only, but at the moment Mlle Fitch seemed to have disappeared off the planet.

Either the girl was involved in the murder and was keeping her head down or she'd been scared witless by the fate of her partner and was just in hiding. The other alternative...that she'd been killed by the same guy who executed Mlle Stonem was also a possibility, but given the assassin had been unconcerned at the first body being discovered, it was likely this Fitch girl was still breathing...for now anyway.

The Brit CID was visiting both families tonight, so at least one set of parents would be getting some _very_ bad news right about now.

Elise Charbonneau opened the last of the plastic evidence bags on her desk. Everything else had been checked then sent to forensics for proper examination. But the killer had been neat...too fucking neat. A professional hit on a pretty English lesbian in a Paris hotel...what the fuck lay behind it? Elise didn't like the smell of it. Given that the couple had only been in Paris one night, the killer must have followed them straight over the Channel. Someone had been impatient for this Elizabeth Stonem to die quickly...but who?

And why?

She dropped the contents of the bag onto a blotter and scanned them. A quality fountain pen, a small gilded notepad with nothing much inside it apart from two phone numbers and...a silver USB stick. All taken from a tiny purse which had been stuffed under the vanity unit in the hotel room bathroom. The prints from the articles had matched the Stonem girls, these taken by the forensic examiner at the morgue, where she would stay in cold storage until the Brits claimed her for burial….eventually. The legal process in France was long and torturous, even if the murderer was apprehended soon. It could be a year until the body was released.

So, nothing physical to tie this Fitch girl to what had been hidden anyway. There _had_ been another USB stick found by SOCO, at the bottom of a flower vase, but it was ruined by water immersion. Of an identical make and memory size, it looked like whoever had purchased them, had done at the same time. But why _two_ memory sticks?

The surviving stick had yet to be examined by forensics, so Elise opened her personal laptop and plugged it in the USB slot. Just one file on it… a hefty media clip. She grabbed a cup of coffee from the machine behind her while it loaded.

A bit of white noise, then a wobbly shot of women's shoes. It looked like a dance floor beneath those expensively shod feet. Illuminated and flashing. Right… a club then. Hopefully, there would be faces soon and something to identify the location. More wobbly images of people dancing, then it blacked out.

" _Merde_ " Elise said in a low voice...if that was it, it was useless as evidence, it could be anywhere in Paris.

But the clip continued after a short, silent delay. Similar techno music suddenly blasted out again, but muted, as if it was in an adjacent room. Voices...French voices...then the person taking the footage saying something indistinct in English. The policewoman moved the slider back and replayed it.

" _Go on Em...enjoy yourself...Coco and Anna are waiting for you_ _babe_ _...let your hair down for once,_ _beautiful_?"

Then an image of a very pretty dark haired girl in a short emerald cocktail dress...whirling round with her hands in the air. Even in the grainy footage, Elise could see the girl was right out of it. Eyes wide and unfocused, body shimmying to the beat of the heavy bass next door. Then another figure...taller than the brunette, dressed in a silver outfit so revealing it was barely on her...wrapping her arms round the smaller girl and nuzzling her neck from behind. Then they were kissing... passionately.

Another voice...slightly deeper in tone...right by the ( _phone_ )?

" _You sure about_ _giving her_ _the Ket,_ _Effy_ _? She looks_ _well_ _up for it anyway,_ _what_ _with the MDMA and speed_ _you gave_ _her?_ _..._ _Y_ _ou said you wanted her to remember tonight_ _clearly_ _?_ "

A laugh then...not a pleasant one. More bitter than amused.

" _Oh I want her to remember it_ _alright_ _..._ _so yeah,_ _maybe the Ket can wait for later? Just get in there Anna, Coco is having all the fun….and remember, I want Emily to experience_ _ **everything**_ _...OK…?_ "

The other voice sniggered.

" _Effy babe...she'll have so much 'fun' she'll never forget tonight if she lives to_ _be_ _a hundred. Coco and me are going to fuck her_ _pretty_ _little body senseless_ _...trust me, your_ _pretty_ _girlfriend_ _will never come as hard...or as many times in her life..._ _that much quality MDMA inside her will make her want it again and again_ _?"_

Again the unpleasant chuckle.

" _Yeah...go for it_ _then_ _. I'll just take my_ _souvenir_ _video_ _while you_ _shag_ _her_ _..._ _maybe Em and me_ _can watch it again later?_ "

The other voice joined the cynical laughter, then the other woman appeared in shot. Tall, blonde...with startling blue eyes. As soon as she moved over to the kissing pair, the shorter girl spotted her. Abruptly, she released the dark haired girl and moved towards the blonde. Soon they too were kissing frantically.

The voice came again, low, angry.

" _Yeah... thought so...still a sucker for the blue eyed blondes Em. But this one isn't a threat_ _to me_ _is she_ _ **hun**_ _?"_

The bitter inflection was unmistakeable. Elise made a note on her blotter even as she watched the situation develop.

" _Check_ _EF_ _contacts for poss. blue eye_ _d_ _blondes?..._ _ex's_ _?_ "

Both French girls were all over the half naked petite brunette now, from the front and behind. Hands, lips and tongues….they moved sinuously, deliberately. It was obvious they had done this before. The Fitch girl was entranced, wide eyed and compliant. The detective could hear the phone owners breathing get faster as the three moved eventually to a long leather couch by the wall. No one else appeared to be in the room, so Elise paused the footage and made another note

" _C_ _heck_ _L_ _es clubs w private rms..._ _poss_ _Le Marais_ _?_ "

As the three girls started getting serious about stripping each other naked, Elise shifted in her seat. Mostly straight...at least her latest fuck buddy was male...she had no problem with pretty girls either. Watching three beautiful women make out was hardly unpleasant work. She glanced around her to make sure no one had come back to the office, but the place was still deserted. A lot of the male detectives would be more than happy to watch _this_ footageone handed...she thought wryly.

Fifteen long minutes later, she shut the laptop with an audible shuddering exhale of breath and leaned back in her seat.

Well...Mlle Fitch had been screwed good and proper, she thought. If the photographer _was_ her partner Elizabeth Stonem...what reason would she have to get her pretty girlfriend off her face and naked with two paid for tarts? From what she'd witnessed, they had certainly made good on their promise to fuck the English girl incredibly thoroughly. Tongues, fingers and even towards the end a black strap on, which one girl wore as she screwed a kneeling Emily Fitch from behind while her accomplice laid underneath the brunette in the classic 69 position. By the time they got up from the couch, the Fitch girl was spread out, exhausted on the leather sofa, arm over her face and dead to the world.

The only other bit of conversation the detective heard was as the two whores parted company with Mlle Stonem. The rustle of banknotes was clear as they dressed quickly in their skimpy outfits.

" _I think she'll remember that OK_ " one woman said laconically as the Euro's were passed over. "... _anytime you want a repeat_ _Effy_ _, let us know?...I'd fuck that_ _little beauty_ _for nothing...hell, I might even pay_ _her_ _?"_

The last sound heard was the three of them laughing.

Elise frowned as she took the stick out of the USB slot and replaced it in the plastic evidence bag.

" _So_..." she mused quietly ".. _.the_ _dead_ _girl sets up '_ _le dirty weekend'_ _for her and this Emily girl...but instead of enjoying that frankly spectacular little body herself, pays two_ _pretty_ _whores to do it for her..._ _why_ _?_ "

She sipped her now cold coffee and thought some more.

"... _the point of the exercise obviously wasn't_ _just_ _that she fancied a bit of_ _casual_ _voyeurism. No...she wanted to punish the Fitch girl for something. Something...or_ _someone_ _possibly_ _blue eyed and blonde..._ _almost certainly_ _back in the UK. So we're talking blackmail_ _and/_ _or_ _revenge?..._ _S_ _omething like_ _that_ _. But this assassin_ _pops up, offs Stonem and presumably goes_ _straight_ _back to the UK. I think I'd better ring the boss in the morning and set up some sort of meeting with the British police. I have a feeling this is_ _going to_ _get_ _complicated_ _?"_

She yawned, but even so briefly considered calling her current squeeze for a midnight quickie after watching the _erotique_ floor show. But decided against it. He might get curious and start asking questions about exactly _what_ had got her so hot at work that she needed his services at such short notice. She felt a small twinge of guilt at allowing herself to get excited about a bit of voyeur amateur porn, but eventually made her mind up and pushed back the chair.

So... a bath, a half bottle of Chablis, some Belgian chocolate and then that devilishly addictive battery powered object in the top drawer of her bedside cabinet...better all round.

…

Back in the UK, Naomi shifted restlessly in the comfortable bed. It was like Emily's quiet body was giving off waves of radiation. Nothing the blonde did got her any closer to sleep. Her mind was humming with random thoughts. But the main distraction was lying inches away from her.

She debated for another few seconds before sighing in resignation.

"Oh fuck it...come here you" she whispered quietly, then moved over to where Emily was also lying on her back, just as wide awake. She wrapped her arms around the smaller girl and tucked Emily's head into her shoulder. The answering " _mmm"_ of approval told her someone was more than happy to comply.

Emilys hand stroked Naomi's arm gently as they settled together, bodies spooned against each other. It wasn't right yet...not by a long way...but within seconds, both girls started to relax. It wasn't the time for proper making up, or sex, but the comfort of the others body was enough...for now.

…

Cook stirred as the sunlight from the window began to cross his vision. He groaned and lifted a brawny arm, pressing it against his eyes. As if on cue, a hundred little devils with sharp hammers began beating in painful rhythm inside his head.

"Fucking tequila" he groaned, fumbling blindly for the bottle of mineral water usually kept on the bedside cabinet. Without even opening his eyes, he unscrewed the top and drained it in three swallows.

And regretted it instantly.

His stomach heaved and contracted in protest at the cold liquid invasion and he had to stagger out of the bedroom and into the bathroom on legs that refused to obey him or risk instant upchucking. Holding himself upright by the vanity unit, he retched the water back into the sink. His head wasn't sure whether to swim or pound, so he gave it a second or two for the room to stop spinning, before lifting it and staring at himself in the mirror. What he saw wasn't pleasant.

"Fuck me Cookie boy..." he growled huskily "...getting fucking old mate,. Since when does a bottle of tequila and a good shag fuck you up like this?"

He shook his head at the pointlessness of rhetorical questions, then filled the bowl with cold water and dunked his head in it. Ignoring the rush of frigid water over the edge slopping onto his bare feet, he kept his head immersed until he was desperate for air. Straightening, he reached blindly for a towel and vigorously dried his face and head. Opening the cabinet in front of him, he selected a box from the considerable pile, then pressed two long tablets from the foil. He swallowed both with more water from the cold tap and wandered back into the lounge.

Cook grimaced as the evidence of last night was still obvious around him. An empty bottle of Tequila Gold with two glasses, his polo top..pulled off him around midnight by Rebecca just before she went for gold and started unbuttoning his 501's. That memory at least was pleasant. There was a time when James Cook's mornings all started like this. A hangover, an ache in the crotch from pounding some random half the night and discarded clothes. But as he'd noted earlier...her was getting fucking old. Nowadays...up until he royally fucked up with Naomi and her giving him his marching orders...he was a bit more civilized. True the blonde rarely put out for him more than once a week...and _then_ only when she had half a bottle of Shiraz as motivation...but he'd quite enjoyed the quiet domesticity she provided, even if he didn't get his dick damp at home nearly often enough.

In fact, some might say she'd been the _perfect_ girlfriend. Willing to turn a blind eye to his...lapses...usually of the voluptuous wannabe variety… as long as he scrupulously used a condom on them and her…. and showered before getting into bed. She kept the flat spotless and cooked his meals for him. And on the odd occasion she deigned to go out on the town with him...he enjoyed the admiring and sometimes jealous eyes of his friends as he showed her off. Proper fit bird...that was Miss Naomi Campbell.

But fate had taken its big, knobbly truncheon and given him a proper seeing to when the Fitch girl had ended up next door. Fucking doomed, he'd groaned as Effy revealed her sly surprise. It didn't take a genius to work out what would happen next. From the first time he'd seen the two 16 year olds swapping terrified yet fascinated glances back in college, the writing was on the wall in big fuck off letters.

 _ **Naomi hearts Emily Emily hearts Naomi**_

Yep...hanging above their mixed up teenage heads like neon. Obvious to everyone but them.

When Naomi had fucked it up with one too many leaps for freedom, Cook had cheered inside. Finally the coast was clear for him to bone the sarcastic blonde. And one day it happened. He got into her knickers and then into her head. Emily was off learning her lezzer trade with the flexible Effy Stonem (someone else he'd enjoyed fucking the term before) and he made sure to be around as a friend as well as part time lover to the heartbroken Naomi. He always knew he was second choice...but somehow, despite the odds, he'd hung on to her.

All that changed when Emily and Effy turned up in the same block.

Now…? Well now Cook was starting to revert to type, even if his stamina wasn't quite what it was at 17. Shagging that posh Rebecca tart last night was fun...more than fun. OK, she was obviously as much a fan of sucking cock as his ex...but she more than made up for it in the shagging stakes. Real enthusiastic.

The only bright spot in an otherwise bleak week. Naomi gone...his earnings reduced to small handouts from Max and a lonely apartment to bounce around inside. Not even the comfort a couple of lines of Colombian could give him. Not today anyway. Rebecca had been careful to restrict him to two hits before she stripped off that formal white top and give him some serious booty.

Cook rubbed his balls reflectively. Damned good shag she might be, but he wasn't stupid enough to think it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Strictly business, that was Max's tame brief. Screwing Cook had been all part of the service.

He yawned before another thought interrupted his musing.

Effy

" _Fuck_ " he said slowly, looking out at the grey Docklands skyline. "...poor old Eff"

She might have brought all this on herself, setting him up with that smarmy narc, but she'd been a friend and a lover...once. Getting topped by a paid hit man was a fucking shame. He sat heavily on the couch, naked and limp. Life really was fucked up beyond…

It was half an hour before his head and stomach settled enough for him to wander into the shower.

…

Katie

" _Emily...its me for the millionth fucking time? Answer your phone, bitch? We've had the fucking law here half the night...mum and dad are going crazy and the_ _BBC_ _news is carrying your face on it all morning. What the_ _ **fuck**_ _have you got yourself into? Was it that crazy bitch Effy...coz if you're not looking at the news channel, the stupid fuck has_ _gone and_ _got herself killed? The cops won't tell us anything other than you're wanted for 'questioning' whatever the fuck that means? I know you're alive because...well, I would_ _just_ _know, right?_ _ **Call**_ _me Emsy...I'm really fucking worried_ _here_ _?"_

Katie put the phone down after leaving her message just as the doorbell rang. Her mum was trying to put a brave face on it all, but the tear streaked cheeks and crumpled tissues gave it away a bit. Her dad was pacing up and down the room, clenching his fists and muttering something indistinct in Scouse….she caught the words hunting and dogs, but it made no fucking sense….as per.

Katie jumped up and ran for the door. Emily had a key to their parents house still, but maybe…?

The door banged open on its hinges as the older twin threw it wide, face dropping instantly when she recognised the man standing there.

"Oh...you again" she said dully, not even waiting for the detective to walk in before going back into the lounge.

"Its that cop again mum...dad?" she said, folding her arms across her chest and waiting for the man to speak. But instead, he pulled a plastic bag from his coat pocket and held it out for her to see.

"I take it this is Emily's phone?" he said calmly "...it was ringing in the car as I got here...did you just call her?"

Katie nodded, rolling her eyes at the wasted message.

"Yeah...I've been phoning her all morning..."

Then her eyes widened.

"Fuck...where did you...is she...have you..?"

Katie couldn't form the words. Emily _couldn't_ be dead...she'd know. People might laugh about the 'twin thing' but it really happened sometimes. When they were kids they occasionally finished each others sentences...so.

The detective shook his head.

"No...we haven't found Emily yet...and we have no reason to believe at this stage that anything untoward has happened to your sister...but we really need to talk to her...find out what she knows about Elizabeth Stonems death…? We found Emily's phone in the bottom of her wardrobe this morning when her apartment was searched?"

A muffled sob from the couch told Katie that the policeman's blunt words had started her mum off again.

He coughed and continued.

"So...we know your sister left the Paris hotel after what we think might have been an argument...a lovers tiff maybe? What about we don't yet know. Sometime after _that_ , her friend Elizabeth was murdered. The French pathologists immediate report puts time of death at sometime after 11 Paris time. We know that your sister was at the Euro-star station well before then. She bought a one way ticket to St Pancras and we have her on CCTV at the border point in the UK at lunchtime. After _that_ we're still in the dark. Is there anywhere you think she might go...anyone she might turn to in an emergency...apart from here obviously?"

He was being diplomatic, they both knew that. Emily was in trouble, but she'd avoided coming home or even contacting her twin sister. Katie burned a little with shame at that.

"No..." she said flatly "...if that craz...if Effy was still in Paris...I don't know who else Emily would run to back here. If it had been a few years ago, she might have rushed straight into the arms of that big lezzer Campbell, but that's been over for ages..."

" _Campbell_?" the detective said sharply "...would that be..." he checked his notebook, then looked up "... _Naomi_ Campbell?"

Katie wrinkled her brow in surprise " _Naomi_?...what the fuck would she have to do with it. They haven't even seen each other in years...?"

Folding his notebook and fishing out his phone, the detective shook his head.

"Wrong, I'm afraid..."Naomi Campbell is Emily's next door neighbour? Lives with a Cook...James Cook...and she's on the missing list too?"

Katies mouth dropped open in utter shock.

"What the actual _fuck_ " she muttered as the detective turned away and spoke quickly into his phone "...I should have known that blonde bitch would be involved somehow. Wherever she is.. trouble follows….I'll fucking _kill_ her"

…

Emily stirred as the same bright sun which had woken James Cook a hundred miles away streamed into the caravan. Her body was warm and comfortable and for a second, she forgot the events of the past few days and just luxuriated in being safe and relaxed. But as her eyes opened, she became aware of another body pressed against her from behind.

Naomi

She laid there quietly as Naomi's soft breath tickled the hairs on her neck. The blondes hands were wrapped round her protectively. But one of them was in a rather...intimate...position. Emily, wide awake now, could feel gentle pressure on her left breast as the girl behind her cupped it possessively. It was hardly unpleasant and even as she paused to consider what to do next, she could feel fingers searching for her nipple through the thin material of her tee. Her breathing increased as she realised Naomi was feeling her up in her sleep. Because although the breathing in her ear was still somewhat slow and regular, it was interrupted by mumbled words now. Words she recognised from long ago.

Words like ' _love you_ _Em_ ' and ' _so beautiful_ '

Words that at one time she would have killed to hear. Words that were making the natural warmth between her legs start to increase rapidly. She tried...Emily really tried...but one more pinch of her nipple...one more gentle squeeze of her sensitive breast and her body wasn't her own any more. She groaned in pleasure. The voice in her ear...the breathing...the sensation of that hand cupping her so erotically...despite the situation they were in, despite the dark secret she carried in her heart about Paris… and despite the fact that awake, Naomi would definitely _not_ be doing this, Emily surrendered.

Gripping the hand that was holding her breast, she pushed it lower. There was a pause when she thought that maybe Naomi had woken and realised what she was doing, but then Emily was pushing that warm hand inside her underwear. She knew she was already wet...already open.

In a moment, the sleeping Naomi knew it too. Instinctively, her finger found Emily's clit and began to stroke...to tease. Emily groaned again and pushed at the fingers with her hips. The movement slipped the tip of the middle finger inside her. Her thighs parted jerkily as the slickness of her sex drew in that sly finger. Naomi's breathing in her ear was faster and less regular now. On the verge of consciousness, the blonde was starting to realise what she was doing.

The movement stopped abruptly as Naomi came fully awake.

"What the fu...oh _shit_ Em...I'm sorr..." she started to say, but Emily was too excited to let this moment pass. Gripping Naomi's hand again, she pushed against it hard. The curious finger slipped deliciously inside...fully inside. She felt Naomi tense...then relax.

" _Please_ " was Emily's only request. It was enough, apparently.

" _Jesus_ Em..." was Naomi's stunned reply. Then her lips connected with Emilys most sensitive spot just below her ear, and worries and fears left them for the next delicious half hour.

A curious thrush, on the dewy grass outside...paused in his search for juicy morning worms and cocked his head sideways. The caravan next to him began to gently rock. Noises...human noises began to grow louder inside. But he was a old hand at this breakfast business. It wasn't unusual for caravans to rock a little this time of the morning. The humans were enjoying themselves...none of his business.

By the time he had selected a likely candidate and lifted off for his nest, the caravan was rocking much faster and high pitched pleas and groans could be heard through the partly open window.

In the other room to the entwined pair, the News Channel bleeped again its updated report about the missing Emily Fitch.

But that could wait another few minutes….

 **Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed that. More soon.**


	23. Chapter 23

**On with the story then. Many thanks for the supportive messages and reviews. Really makes my day!**

 _ **Trigger warnings for violence, sex descriptions and some coercion in this chapter?**_

Two telephone calls and a Tor web account crawler search was all it took. In this age of traceability through bots and credit searches, the man was already in his car and travelling at just around the time Emily was showing Naomi just how grateful she could be for that delightful early wake up call.

He pulled out of London onto the northbound A11 and smiled thinly as the car negotiated the commuter traffic. Two hours, tops he reckoned. The silly bitches had made it easy for him. A caravan park? Perfect. Isolation from the town and if he arrived mid morning, most of the holidaymakers would be down at the beach with their brats, festooned with buckets, spades and garishly inappropriate hats. His targets...because necessity now demanded there were _two_ targets… would probably still be holed up in their little love nest, hoping the world would leave them alone.

But the world, in the shape of this dark haired, cold eyed assassin, would not leave them alone. Max had been very specific in his instructions. If in any doubt, witnesses were a disposable item. There was no direct guide regarding the blonde girl...Naomi? But as Cook's significant other, she was as implicated as the Fitch girl in posing a potential security leak. Dead, yes there would be an inevitable major investigation into a double murder,. But as an obvious gangland hit, the fuss would die down quickly...specially with Max's tame Superintendents and Met drug squad detectives on the lucrative payroll. The papers would make a lot of noise about two 'innocent' victims, but business is business. Hard cash speaks louder than any protester. Another tragedy would replace it in two days.

The man shifted slightly in his seat as he cleared the city ring road and accelerated hard north. Normally he hated leaving the noise and bustle of the metropolis. Paris had been barely acceptable, just another smoky, crowded mass of humanity, but out here in the far too green and empty countryside, his kind were unusual. And standing out in a crowd, even a small crowd was bad...very bad.

He reached down and adjusted himself for comfort. The black dual lane tarmac stretched out in front of him, traffic mainly light, unlike the other carriageway with its work bound commuters. Time to kill while the powerful hatchback ate up the miles. His mind wandered to the possibility of catching the girls still in bed. _Nice_...he thought as he pictured them naked and fragrant from recent sex. Vulnerable and alone. No opportunity for them to put up a proper struggle. It still rankled slightly that he'd had no time to amuse himself with the Stonem girl before ending her life. His employer...and others he worked for occasionally...tolerated his little vices in the main. He was a skilled and deadly operator. Once the contract was made, the victims were as good as dead. But if he had a little...fun...before dispatching them, they usually turned a blind eye. It had the added advantage of clouding the waters a bit when the police investigated. Was this a professional hit or a lurid sex crime?

He fidgeted again when his cock hardened slightly in his trousers. The Fitch girls photo ID picture in his wallet was getting dog eared by now. Very pretty...but much more than that. There was a vulnerability in her eyes which fuelled his lust. He enjoyed the compliant, obedient type. Much more fun when they started to believe that a good fucking was all he was after. He could use them at will...make them do things they would never allow a boyfriend or husband to do...and all because they thought he might just get his satisfaction inside their bodies then perhaps leave them damaged but alive. Stupid cunts. The hopeless look in their eyes when his strangling wire slowly throttled them at the very end was even more erotic to him than their desperate earlier attempts to please him. Sometimes he got so excited all over again as they choked out their last breath, faces mottled and purple, that he had to roughly fuck their still warm bodies to rid himself of a freshly burgeoning erection.

And then there was the other girl...Campbell? Bit more assertive that one by all accounts, according to Rebecca anyway. Likely to put up a struggle, specially if her little dyke friend was being threatened. But that was fine too...he'd just disable her with a back hand slap...then maybe tie her up and make her watch while he buggered the sobbing Fitch girl. Then after he'd strangled the brunette, he could take his time with Miss Campbell...make her serve him first, her dead girlfriend still twitching beside them.

An impatient overtaker tooted him loudly as he lingered a little in the middle lane, daydreaming about the things he could do to both girls before dispatching them. The man frowned as a similar Golf Gti pulled up alongside and gestured at him obscenely. He briefly considered responding, but he was on the clock. Instead he fixed the gel haired twenty something sales clone with a blank, emotionless stare. For a second, he thought the young fool might escalate the issue, but the guy must have seen something in the mans eyes which unnerved him. With a final v sign, the reps car accelerated hard past him and was soon lost in the distance.

An hour later, sitting with a cooling, over priced coffee in a roadside service station, the brush salesman had no idea that this morning, sudden and painful death had briefly looked his way.

With a grunt of faint annoyance, his double rape and murder daydream rudely interrupted for the time being, the assassin reached out, turned on the car radio and selected a classical station. Time for some soothing music before life got...interesting...again?

…

"Em..." Naomi said slowly, trailing her fingers down the other girls arm.

"Yeah?" Emily said sleepily. They'd made each other very happy only a few minutes ago, and her body was still tingling with warm satisfaction. She knew Naomi wanted to talk...probably to make the obvious point that sex hadn't changed their situation, but she wanted nothing more right now than to snuggle up with her lover and forget the world for a few more minutes.

"Em, that was lovely...its _always_ lovely? Making love with you isn't like anything else in the world...b..but..."

Emily sighed unhappily. She shifted so they were facing each other on their sides.

"I know Naoms..I know" she whispered. "it doesn't change things. I ran out on you and I've spent every moment since regretting it. Bad enough I ran back to Effy after the first time we made love ...it must have been truly horrible for you to hear her and me that night…?"

She stopped when a flash of pain so vivid flicked across Naomi's face it made Emily's stomach lurch. A nauseous feeling replaced warm satisfaction in her body. If Naomi was still burning over _that_ small betrayal, how would she feel if and when she discovered that Effy hadn't just been content to reclaim her prize this time...but had persuaded a drugged and horny Emily to feature in some sort of fucked up home porno with two complete strangers? Guilt and self disgust surged through Emily's head. She dropped her eyes from Naomi's intense gaze, considering for one crazy moment whether to confess all her sins...get it out in the open. But even though her mouth opened to do just that, what came out was quite different.

"I'm..uh...so...so fucking sorry Naoms...it was stupid and cruel of me to remind you. But the one thing I can guarantee is that I will _never_ go back to Effy again. She's manipulated me once too often. I'm not 17 any more. The thought of being with her now disgusts me. Its _you_ I love...have always been in love with...for as long as I can remember. If you'll have me...I'll always be yours from now on?"

The last word came out in a strangled croak as tears filled her eyes. She might not be able to bring herself to confess what had happened in Paris yet, but everything else she'd said was 100% true.

Naomi blinked hard, tears filling her own eyes, then reached for Emily. The comfort of each others arms was enough...at least for now.

…

They fell asleep like that, the morning sun slowly cresting over the half empty holiday park and warming the caravan. People and cars came and went. Parents ushering excited children into overheated MPV's, beach paraphernalia crammed into already overloaded hatches. Cleaning staff came and went too...freshening the holiday homes vacated earlier, ready for new holidaymakers later in the day. Even a nominal white security van crawled slowly along each access way between rows of identical mobile homes. The middle aged man with a severe case of dandruff gazed disinterestedly at the mostly empty metal boxes. At this early time of year, only about half the caravans were occupied anyway, and as it neared midday, most of the guests were already on the beach or walking the promenade, hunting French fries and greasy burgers. His job was mundane at the best of times, and this wasn't one of them.

Finally, his mini tour producing nothing more interesting than a blown down awning, which he reported to maintenance via his cheap two way radio, and with his own lunch in mind, he headed for the club house. Steak was on the menu today in the staff canteen, and staff lunches were heavily subsidised. His mouth watered in anticipation. Maybe that sexy little Portuguese waitress Maria would be on duty too...never hurt to enjoy a meal with her big tits swaying under her uniform as she passed from table to table. She never actually spared him a second glance, but a man can dream?

The car which passed him coming the other way as he swung round the last row of 'vans wasn't notable in any way really. Black, with obscured windows at the sides and back. He only noticed it because he'd been gazing wistfully into the VW dealership in town at the weekend and recognised a top of the range Gti.

"Nice" he muttered as the car slowed to let him by. " _Very_ nice"

Eyes on the car, he almost missed the driver. The offside front window was down and as they crossed, the guard looked directly into the mans eyes. A chill went down his spine at the expression on the drivers face. When he was asked later by the police, he could only sum it up with a word he had never used before.

Something he'd heard only in nature programs on cable.

 _Feral_.

The man didn't pause or say a word. Just the look in his eyes told the guard that something wasn't quite right.

Not a guest, thats for sure, he thought as the car passed him and crawled along the row he'd just vacated. Looking back, the guard wished fervently that he'd allowed his growling stomach to override his curiosity. But the thought that the man and car just didn't fit in this slightly down market holiday park wouldn't leave him. Even then, he might have suppressed his suspicions and maybe just mentioned it to his controller when his shift ended, but as he stopped the car and watched the Golf turn the corner he'd just navigated in his rear view mirror, he was startled by a knock on his window. It was Cyril, the groundsman.

Cyril was a likeable idiot really. Barely able to read or write, he nevertheless had a startling affinity with anything that grew or blossomed. Everyone who knew him, liked him. Just over 2 metres tall and weighing 115 kilos, he towered over most people. But he was the very definition of a gentle giant. In his huge hands, hundreds of small seedlings were carefully planted and nurtured. By the time the park was full in July, it would be ablaze with exotic colours and scents.

When the security guy got over his shock at the knock on his window, he hit the down button, ready to give Cyril a volley, but the expression on the mans face stopped him.

"Whats up Cyril mate?" he said instead. The big mans brow was furrowed and his mouth turned down.

"That man that just passed you, Jeff" he rumbled disconsolately "...that man...doesn't fit here. A bad man, I think?"

Any other time, the security guard would have brushed the big guys concerns off. None of his business if some scary stranger wanted to drive slowly round the park. Free country and all that. Anyway...it wasn't his job to interrogate visitors. His normal routine was only enlivened on a Saturday night in high season...maybe if some group of lads got past the ' _no stag parties_ ' rule on the booking form and had to be ejected for being too loud. Even then he had the local plod as back up. But the look on Cyril's face was worrying him too now.

The guy had definitely been 'wrong'. No question. He sighed at the thought of his well done steak going to waste, but nodded at Cyril and opened his door. No point in using the car for this...the access road the car had gone down was a dead end. Better off walking. He felt marginally better as he straightened up, that the big man was falling into step with him. Safety in numbers...specially when the other number was as big a unit as Cyril.

The groundsman was clutching an short planting hoe, which Jeff thought was maybe a bit of overkill, but he shrugged. Didn't hurt to be careful.

…

Naomi had just started kissing Emily awake when she heard the outside door squeak faintly. Her brow crinkled in surprise. She knew she'd locked it firmly last night. Surely they don't do housekeeping on a site like this, she wondered vaguely? Then the floor moved slightly as someone stepped inside. She sat up straight and rocked Emily's shoulder urgently. What the _fuck_?

"Naoms...what's up babe?" Emily slurred, still half asleep. Naomi didn't answer her, but jumped out of the bed, cursing her failure to put the night time tee back on earlier. It took another couple of seconds for her to throw the crumpled top over her head and wriggle into the pair of her discarded knickers. She ran a hand through her tangled bed hair, looking fearfully at the closed bedroom door. Everything they owned was in the living area behind it.. including the fucking _phone_ , she thought feverishly.

In the lounge, the dark haired man stood for a second, breathing steadily. The locked door had been no match for his skills at gaining entry. This was his job...his vocation. At this moment, before the unpleasant surprises began for the unfortunate targets, he was focussed, calm. He sniffed carefully, taking in the obvious scent of recent sex. Good, he thought...the girls had probably fucked the night through and were now sleeping soundly in the bedroom. With a quick glance around the caravan, just to be sure there were no nasty surprises lurking, he moved silently...or as silently as the thin floor would allow, to the closed door at the end. With luck, both women would still be asleep and vulnerable. One meaty slap and Campbell would stay asleep for a while longer...enough time for him to terrify the timid one, tie the blonde to a chair with the cable ties in his pocket and have some fun before the real business began. He smiled to himself and had to cut off the amused hum his mind was trying to persuade his mouth to make. Sometimes this job was so fucking perfect, it was almost a religious experience…

Outside, Cyril and Jeff were looking quizzically at the parked Golf, which was standing, engine ticking in a wide turning bay a dozen metres from the last caravan. There were empty spaces next to every holiday home, specifically for guests and visitors...why would he park some way away if that was what he was...a visitor?

They shared a glance of concern before walking quietly towards the row of identical caravans. Then Jeff stopped Cyril with a hand on his brawny forearm.

"Hang on mate...this smells _really_ wrong for some reason. Let me..." he whispered.

He reached down and unhooked his two way radio, turning away and speaking into it quietly. No need to let anyone else know they were there yet.

" _Control...code red call,_ _repeat code RED call_ _. Assistance required at..._ " he looked up and down the row until he saw the white painted numerals at the end of the path "... _Green sector 44. I think a call to the police is needed too. Something_ _strange_ _is happening here?"_

He didn't wait for the office to answer. He knew he would be on the air for minutes, explaining the alarm if he did. Somehow he felt that his silence would speak louder than any panicked distress call.

Hooking the radio back on his belt and muting the speaker, he nodded to the bigger man. Slowly they began to make their way towards the silent row of caravans.

...

Inside Naomi and Emily's shared room, the girls were both wide awake now. Emily sitting up in the bed with the duvet cover clutched to her naked chest, staring with wide and frightened eyes at her girlfriend. Naomi gestured with a finger across her lips and mouthed the words " _someone's got inside?_ "

Emilys eyes widened even more. Her heart thumped so hard she wondered it hadn't burst from her chest

She went to reach for her own tee lying across the foot of the bed, but Naomi waved silently at her to stay still. She crept to the door across the carpeted floor and held her ear to the cool wood. No sound at all for a second, then the tiniest squeak as whoever it was inside crept nearer across the lounge. Hair stood up on the back of her neck as she recognised the signs of the intruder trying to sneak up on them. Whoever it was, it certainly wasn't fucking housekeeping. Cooks words about Max's paid assassin rang in her ears as she froze, unable to think what to do next.

…

The man paused when he got to the bedroom door. Still no sign of life from within he thought, then grinned nastily at how prescient that phrase would soon be. Sliding the large hunting knife he always carried in a shoulder holster under his black cotton jacket into his right hand, he crouched, ready to burst in. He had no intention of using the blade to maim or wound...not unless it was unavoidable. Stabbing...slashing...all that was messy and unprofessional. No, the knife was there to terrify, to fascinate. He knew that the mere act of waving it in someone's face had a paralysing effect on victims. The glittering 8" weapon held their eyes like a coiling cobra as he disabled them. Once immobilised...the Campbell girl with a precise blow, the Fitch one with his mere presence, he could do his work without the knife. It could go back into the holster until needed again.

Outside, Jeff and Cyril were carefully checking every caravan as they reached it. It was slow work. Most of them should have been unoccupied, but the shorter man gingerly tested each door, each window. Looking through the panoramic lounge window at the end of each, it was obvious that several of the holiday homes had still to be let for the first time this season. Plastic dust protectors still on the furniture. But two were definitely occupied...at least they had been. Family articles lay around the living area of the first they checked. Toys, newspapers, even a high chair, rented from the site office to indicate that there were guests, but that they were absent...probably at the pleasure beach. So it was with more confidence they approached the last 'van.

Cyril crouched lower, his bulky frame more obvious than Jeff's, so he had to almost bend in half to stay below the window level. Jeff tried the door, which appeared locked. He had no idea then of course, that the assassin had carefully relocked the door after gaining entry. They shuffled along the side of the alloy unit, keeping their footsteps light and testing each one for obstacles.

…

Inside, while the two park employees had been checking other caravans, the killer had been busy. The noise of him bursting through the closed door would have alerted them immediately, even though they had been a few yards away at that moment. But as Naomi watched with numb eyes, cursing her stupidity at not throwing the lock...feeble as it was...the handle turned and the door opened wide.

Emily opened her mouth to scream. She had no idea who the intruder was, but one look at his grim expression and those black, soulless eyes, she didn't need an introduction. Sudden death had come to visit them.

The scream wouldn't come out. If it had, maybe the two men outside would have come sooner, but instead it froze in her throat. Naomi too was transfixed, not only by the certainty that this man had come to kill Emily...and probably her...but by the large knife he was holding out towards them both. No one spoke for what seemed an hour, but was probably seconds. Then the man did.

" _No sound...otherwise I'll cut both your throats in a second, got it_?"

Emily shivered as she heard the ice in his voice. This was not a man to reason with or beg. He had come to do a job, nothing less. It was only then realisation hit her that Effy was probably dead already. If he'd tracked her down to this little corner of East Anglia, what chance had her ex had against this sort of savagery?

She had no idea where the thought came from, or where she got the courage to ignore his instruction, but she knew she had to try, whether or not it was pointless.

" _If you've come for me...I won't make a fuss...I promise. Just take me...leave Naomi here...she has nothing to do with Effy...you don't need to hurt her?_ " the words were almost whispered and she could feel her whole body shaking in terror.

His thin smile told her it had indeed been pointless, but it had the effect of waking Naomi from her stunned silence.

" _No_ " she said loudly " _fuck that_ _for a game of soldiers_ _...I_ …."

The last word was interrupted by a back handed slap that threw the blonde against the side of the caravan with a hollow metallic boom. Naomi was unconscious by the time she hit the floor, the side of her face already swelling from the massive blow. But the man hardly spared her a glance. Instead, he pocketed the blade and moved closer to where Emily was still sitting with the flimsy duvet as protection.

" _Now_..." he said coldly "... _now you see what disobedience gets you?_ "

Emily stared in total shock at the prone figure of her girlfriend and a sob forced its way up her throat.

" _Jesus...I told you you didn't need to hurt her, you bastard_..." she choked

He grinned then. This was all going exactly to plan. OK, his back handed strike on the blonde meant she would be out of action while he 'enjoyed' the Fitch girl...but he was a patient man. After he'd fucked and throttled Emily, there would still be time to throw the other one onto the bed and have her too. Conscious, unconscious...it was all the same to him once he was upstanding. He'd slake his thirst for young flesh with this one and any residual excitement with Campbell.

Standing over her trembling figure on the bed, he softened his expression a little.

" _Look.. we can come to a compromise? I know you_ _prefer_ _the girlies...but what's a little_ _friendly_ _fuck between friends?...Let me_ _have some fun with you...you never know, you might end up enjoying it...and_ _maybe_ _we can negotiate afterwards?"_

Emily wasn't fooled for a moment. He'd shag her senseless, then kill her anyway. But even in her terror, she knew she had to offer him _something_. Maybe if she could 'distract him' even for a few minutes, Naomi might come round and raise the alarm. It was a faint hope, pointless even, but what else could she do?

She tried a winning smile, which ended up being more of a grimace, then dropped her hands from the duvet, allowing him to see her naked breasts. His eyes blazed with lust as she did that and for a moment, she thought she could see a way out of this nightmare. The last boy she had slept with was when she was just 16...years before at sixth form college. Even then it had been a favour, not something she enjoyed. But she knew this would be different. Even if he opted to shag her now, it would only buy her minutes. By the look on his face, he wouldn't last long if he got inside her. Furiously, she racked her brains for an alternative, but failed.

Then it came to her. Trembling so hard her fingers almost cramped, she reached out and awkwardly stroked the front of his trousers. The firmness she felt there told her that he was already erect. Her mind rebelled even as she attempted to force another smile onto her face.

" _L..._ _l_ _ook...I'll do anything you want...just don't hurt me?_ " she tried.

Again the hard smirk above her.

" _OK,_ _"_ he said, reaching down and pulling his zip wide open. "... _why don't you show me how grateful you can be Emily...maybe I don't need to hurt you_ _after all_?"

They both knew that was a flat out lie, but Emily was fresh out of options and the man was just going along with her,. If she wanted to suck his dick for a while...fair enough, he freed himself with a flourish and enjoyed the fleeting look of disgust on her face before she replaced it with another artificial smile.

" _Suck it then Emily….you've_ _got to have_ _done it before haven't you?_ " he said with a growl. He knew if those cupid bow lips swallowed his erection it would take a real effort of will to stop himself spilling his seed in seconds. But that was all part of the fun. Reluctant or not, he knew she would try her best to make him lose control. But she had no idea what sort of opponent she was up against. Once a beautiful Italian girl, the doomed daughter of one of Max's business antagonists, had spent a full half hour fellating him hungrily, desperate to extend her life by a few more seconds. But he was implacable. Every trick she'd used, he'd expected. And _she_ had been a heterosexual girl with considerable experience of mens cocks. This girl...well, by the reports he had read about her... this would be the first time she'd ever been this close to a real man. All the sweeter then.

With a sick feeling in her stomach, Emily grasped him and leaned forward reluctantly, her breath warming his tip.

…

Cyril motioned to Jeff's belt and mouthed the words ' _keys_?"

As site security, the guard had a master key for all the holiday homes. Mainly because holidaymakers had an annoying habit of leaving their own caravan key on the beach after a days sunbathing and/or sucking ice cream.

Jeff nodded, hoping to hell the sound of sirens would soon be heard. Great Yarmouth wasn't exactly the Bronx, but there was a good sized Police Station in town. The mile between the park and the station meant help was usually minutes away. He prayed that that dim cow Becky wasn't still on duty when he'd left the message. She spent more time on Facebook and Instagram than her work telephone.

Picking the master out with fingers that shook a little, he passed them to the big gardener. Cyril slipped the key in silently just as they heard a loud bang from inside. It sounded like someone had bounced off the inside walls. They shared a worried look. Something was definitely off here. No voices, no sounds of normal occupation. While Cyril stayed by the now unlocked door, Jeff crept back along the 'van and chanced a peek over the window sill at the end of the unit. It gave a view right along the caravan. Right at the other end, he could see a girl sitting up in bed through the open internal door. She was holding a sheet to her neck and even at that distance, the security guard could see the fear on her face. Then a figure blocked his view of the girl, moving closer to the bed. Jeff knew instantly this was the scary man from the Golf. His blood froze in his veins as he could see them talking, but was too far away to hear a word. Silently, he crept back to where Cyril was standing.

" _There's a girl in there...and that fucker looks a very unlikely house guest. Where_ _ **is**_ _that fucking back up"_ he complained, looking about him for someone, anyone who might fit that description.

But the area was deserted.

Cyril shrugged.

" _Up to us then, Jeff mate. Let's go then?_ "

Reluctantly, and knowing he was being a total coward, letting the groundsman lead the way, Jeff pulled back the door and stepped inside after Cyril.

If Max's killer hadn't been quite so distracted by the prospect of those lips, he might have felt the slight movement of the caravan as Cyril's considerable bulk rocked it a little. But the sight of a topless Emily Fitch, holding his erection and about to engulf him, monopolised his eyes and ears for a crucial couple of seconds.

Seconds which the big man used to cover the few feet to the open bedroom door. Instead of the warm and wet sensation of a pretty girls mouth on his dick, the killer suddenly found himself being propelled across the bed and onto the carpeted floor. Hand to hand and one on one, he would still have bet on himself in a fight, but that didn't calculate on 115 kilos of bulk landing right on top of him.

With an anguished yell, he felt his bent left arm crack as the full weight of Cyril crushed him to the floor. The sound of the bone break echoed through the bedroom sickeningly.

Pain he could deal with, after all it was his profession. But the man on top of him had also driven every ounce of breath from his body. Like a landed fish, he gasped and choked helplessly for oxygen. The gardener held him there as he writhed and panted. The man tried to reach into his jacket for the hidden combat knife, but as he moved, a much bigger hand gripped his wrist and twisted savagely. If he'd had more breath to spare he might have shrieked even louder then. The movement ground the fractured bones in his forearm together, driving pure fire through it.

Jeff was beside them by then, staring in disbelief at what they had interrupted. He spotted the unconscious form of Naomi on the other side of the bed and instantly grabbed his radio again, swearing when he remembered he had muted it earlier.

This time he made no attempt to be calm with his transmission.

"Fucking code _RED_ , I said you idle bastards" he yelled into the mic. "Get the police **RIGHT** _**NOW**_!"

In fact the police were already coming along the main access road as he carried on yelling impotent insults into the silent unit.

…

Half an hour later, a groggy and bad tempered Naomi was sitting on the back step of an ambulance as a green uniformed paramedic checked her over for injuries. Her vision was a little blurry still, but she was refusing outright to let them take her to hospital until she had seen Emily again. The bruise on the side of her face was fully up now, dark and swollen.

The holiday park had seldom seen such drama. Jeff and Cyril were outside the girls caravan, talking to a local detective. In an unmarked CID car, the would be assassin was staring balefully out of the window at the mass of blue uniforms taking statements. He'd refused to say a single word since the cavalry arrived, merely allowing two plods to lock him in the back of the CID car. He knew better than to say anything to the locals. If he was lucky, they would process him as an opportunist sex attacker and then Max's tame brief could work on getting him bail. His wrist screamed in agony every time he moved it, but he compartmentalised the pain, sinking into himself, cutting his mind off from reality.

Inside the caravan, Emily...dressed in sweat shirt and cargo pants now, was being interviewed by a local detective and a female officer. There was an awful lot to talk about…

 **And so there is, but you'll have to be patient, if you care! Writing more on Saturday about the aftermath of the rape/murder attempt and what Lieutenant Elise will have to say about things. Its still a bumpy road for our girls.**

 **Comments?**


	24. Chapter 24

**Thanks for the comments. Much appreciated!**

"Miss...you really need to stay still so I can..." the flustered paramedic said for the third time as Naomi fidgeted on the seat inside the back of the ambulance. Although she kept saying she was fine and just needed to see Emily to make her feel better again, the medic wasn't to be deterred and insisted on performing all the necessary checks for someone who'd been unconscious for several minutes after a violent blow to the head. Naomi's swollen cheek and jaw ached like a bitch, and if she was honest with herself (because she definitely _wasn't_ being honest with the green uniformed medic) even the slightest side to side movement of her head made her feel dizzy and nauseous all over again.

"I'm _fine_...really..." she said for the third time as a strong light was aimed into her eyes and the concerned face of the woman swam in front of her. Naomi swallowed another hiss of pain as the medic gently pressed against the side of her skull. Although the would be assassins back handed blow had left her with visible bruises to her face, it was the impact of her already unconscious head on the wall that had concussed her.

"I just need to make sure Emily is OK...they've been in there...I dunno, fucking hours….haven't they?" she asked, suddenly strangely uncertain.

The medic shook her head. No awareness about the passage of time is a classic symptom of concussion and she was more convinced than ever that the blonde needed at the very least a night under observation in the James Paget.

"No more than a few minutes actually Naomi… and I need you to sit really still, honey….head trauma can be tricky and you've certainly been in the wars. That guy..." she looked over balefully at the impassive face of the would be assassin in the police car "...really did a number on you. Look, I'll have a word with the detective, make sure you're kept informed about what's happening to Emily, but we need to get you checked out properly...in hospital?"

" _No_!" Naomi said quickly "...I lost her twice...I'm not doing it again. Where she goes...I go?"

She went to get up, to walk over to the caravan where Emily was sitting with two local detectives going over the events of today, but as soon as she got to her feet, the world went black again.

...

Emily was sitting opposite the two detectives around a table in the lounge area of the caravan. The SOCO team had been called but hadn't yet arrived, so for the time being the bedroom had been taped off. In a plastic sleeve marked ' _E_ _vidence_ ' was the wicked looking combat knife the hit man had waved in front of them earlier. Emily cringed every time she caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye. It looked what it was...a killing blade. She shivered internally whenever she allowed her thoughts to drift to what might have happened if the curious gardener and security patrol man hadn't bothered to follow up their suspicions.

"So..." the younger detective said, pointing to the bagged blade. "...Matey out there broke into the caravan while you and...Naomi...were uh...sleeping? Then he threatened you both, hit Naomi on the head, disabling her and, uh he..." he bit his lip, obviously wondering how diplomatic he needed to be, but the older guy sitting next to him wasn't so backward.

"He threatened you again with the knife and tried to coerce you into having sex with him...is that right, Emily?" he asked bluntly.

Emilys eyes flashed , but finally she nodded.

"Yeah, thats about it. Apart from the fact that I offered to do it…?"

Both detectives blinked at that admission.

"You _offered_?" they said in unison, which might have been mildly amusing in any other circumstances.

"Well, yeah...he made it pretty fucking clear he was gonna do what he wanted to us both, come what may. And my girlfriend was already lying unconscious on the floor, so I had no doubt he was being truthful about hurting us, or worse….so I said if he just left us alone...let us go... _afterwards_...I'd do anything he wanted...voluntarily"

Her face burned with shame and humiliation at just how far she'd been prepared to go to keep them both alive. Sucking some villains cock was something she never thought in a million years she'd ever be forced to do, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

The older detective spoke again, less bluntly this time.

"Look Emily...we're not judging you at all. A guy you don't know bursts into your bedroom, waves a big knife about, then knocks your girlfriend out. Says he's going to rape you both...I understand...hell, _anyone_ would understand...that you'd do pretty much anything to delay things. I know you were lucky with the groundsman and that security guard being suspicious enough to check it out, but you weren't to know that right then? So stop beating yourself up about it, OK?"

Reluctantly, Emily nodded. The feeling of self disgust didn't go away, but it receded a little. Then from outside, she heard the ambulance start its engine. Turning quickly in her seat, she saw the rear doors were now closed and the blue lights flashing. Her heart leapt in her chest as she realised something had happened to her lover.

"Fuck... _Naomi_ " she choked, starting to get up from the seat, but the older detective stopped her.

"Hang on Emily...we need to..."

"Get the fuck OFF me" she shouted, pulling away from his grasping hand. Just when she thought she might have to slap him to get free, a head appeared in the caravan doorway. It was the other paramedic….the driver.

"Naomi has collapsed...we think its probably the concussion. Taking her to the James Paget hospital in Gorleston on blues and two's officer?

Emily froze...Jesus...was all their luck bad?

"I have to go...have to be with her" she gasped, tears springing to her eyes. "...all my fault...if I hadn't run off my mouth at him, he wouldn't have hit her in the first place?"

But both detectives were now standing, blocking her path.

"Emily listen...she's with people who can help her. You have to stay here until the SIO gets here. Sorry, but that's non negotiable. Soon as the boss is happy we know the whole story, one of us will drive you down to the hospital, I promise…?" he turned to the medic and raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah..." the guy said "Emily, look...she'll almost certainly be fine...people with concussion often experience a bit of dizziness...but best we get her checked out. She's a young woman, strong and healthy...I'm sure she'll be OK after a rest and observation?"

Emily started to argue, but the faces opposite her were implacable. Finally she nodded sadly. The sooner she told them everything she knew, the sooner she could get to Naomi's side, where she belonged.

As she slowly sat down, watching the medic exit the caravan, then jump into the front of the ambulance, a loud squawk on the younger detectives radio made them all jump. He turned away and said something low before walking to the rear of the room, plugging an earpiece into his ear. The conversation was short, but obviously important, because when he came back, his face was all business.

"Well Emily...its seems the plot thickens...we have to wait for the Met to get up here. Apparently our friend outside has been busy in France before he followed you here"

His face got even more serious " Do you happen to know an Elizabeth Stonem by any chance?"

Emilys blood chilled in her veins as the name registered.

" _Effy_? Of course I do...she's my...I mean she _was_ my girlfriend...before we split up. Whats happened?"

His face got even more glum and he shared a meaningful glance with the other detective before answering.

"Emily...I think you need to prepare yourself for some bad news. It looks like the man who hurt Naomi and threatened you had been to Paris first. Miss Stonem was...well... she was found dead in her bath yesterday morning...it was _not_ an accident"

Naomi might have been the one with concussion, but as his words sank in, Emily felt herself swaying alarmingly. She didn't put up any resistance as the older cop helped her sit down.

What the _fuck_ , her mind screamed at her. Effy _dead_? This sort of thing didn't happen to people like them.

She sat there stunned as the two detectives muttered to each other for a good while. Her whole world seemed to lie in ruins around her. Effy dead, Naomi on her way to hospital and her unable to do anything but tremble. If there was one time in her life she really needed the fierceness of Katie Fitch, it was now. But she was a hundred miles away.

Just as she started to properly cry,...the delayed tears coming easily now, one of the uniformed officers who'd been outside checking the area stepped into the caravan. In front of him, hanging from a pencil, was something odd. A multi stranded length of blue coated wire with toggles at each end. Emily stared at it bleakly...what new hell was this?

"Guv?" he said to the older detective. "...found this half under the patrol car. I reckon our friend outside dumped it as he was being put in the back...it looks like..."

The detective waved him quiet.

"I _know_ what it looks like, constable...and from what I've just heard, its likely to be a vitally important piece of evidence. Bag it and bring it back here? The Met and someone from the French CID are en route from London. Fuck...this is getting worse by the minute...oh...and radio the SIO. Tell her to get a fucking shift on?...We need proper secure transport for that bastard outside...the back of a patrol car isn't gonna cut it...get two uniforms to stand right by the car until a meat wagon gets here...he goes nowhere until he's handcuffed and inside a steel box?"

…

Twenty miles away, two fast unmarked police cars were in convoy on the same stretch of the A140 trunk road. In the first, the grim faced French lieutenant Elise Wasserman was looking out of the window at the flat and mostly featureless scenery as a similarly silent Met liaison officer drove as quickly as the roads and the blue lights (no sirens yet) would allow. She'd had a shit day so far. The Euro star from Paris, was delayed for an hour by refugees on the line, then a cab from St Pancras to New Scotland Yard on the Victoria Embankment got stuck in London traffic. Half an hour sitting in an uncomfortable ante room chair, refusing awful British instant coffee, then _another_ half hour finally swapping information with a middle aged MIT detective. He seemed OK, but slightly disinterested about the sudden death of a British citizen in Paris. Until he got a call from the police in Great Yarmouth. Coming off that call, he was suddenly all business. The attempted murder of two more girls at a caravan park in East Anglia spiced up things no end. Then he got another call, this time from a specialist unit called the CTF or Central Task Force. They were a new unit set up to deal with organised drug and robbery gangs in the capital. For the first time, Elise heard the name Max Zimmer.

Now they were en route to find out what the hell was going on. In the other car, an MIT team of three male officers and a WPC driver were trying to stay within the national speed limit whilst pushing the boundaries as far as they dared. They too were under flickering but silent blue lights.

...

As the two bored police constables alongside the car holding the suspect were swapping unimpressed looks, they heard fresh sirens in the distance. They straightened, keeping an eye on the impassive man inside. They hadn't been privy to any conversation about the Paris murder, but it was easy to guess that this was turning into something more than just a sex pest investigation.

Seconds later two unmarked cars and a white Transit van with a reinforced steel rear compartment pulled up in the small access road. Although the public had been kept at a respectable distance, the first thing the smartly dressed middle aged woman who exited the first car did was to tersely order the cordon to be widened. The grumbling rubber neckers did as they were asked, albeit with bad grace. A bit of excitement was unusual in this sleepy part of East Anglia.

"Right...you two...get this guy into the paddy wagon. Make sure he's handcuffed to the rail and both back doors are locked. No slip ups...it sounds like this fucker is a bit of a handful...OK?"

The uniformed officers, together with two more from the newly arrived patrol car, did as they were asked. The man in question didn't put up any resistance. His mind was already working out possibilities and looking for opportunities. If this had happened in London, he might have had to try something already, given the likelihood of a larger number of potential obstacles, but even though he knew things had spiralled a little out of control, he kept calm. Max's contacts in the Met would already have made his boss aware of the situation. Wheels would be turning and cash greasing palms. Time to worry later.

The Senior Investigating Officer walked past the paddy wagon without glancing at the new occupant. Into the caravan and straight to the table where Emily and the two detectives were sitting.

"Emily?" she said, putting on a kindly smile which fooled no one. "My name is Detective Chief Inspector Jane Moody...I'll be leading this investigation. Now...lets get comfortable. I know its a pain, but can you go over the events of this morning again for my benefit?"

Emily sighed in resignation. Getting to the hospital to see Naomi was still her priority, but it seemed a long way off at this point. She began to tell her story again.

…

Naomi woke up slowly, her mind gradually coming to terms with the fact that she wasn't in the back of an ambulance any longer. She squeezed her eyes until only slits were open against the harsh glare of the overhead lights. Jesus, its _bright_ , she thought. Swiftly followed by ' _where the fuck am I?_ "

"Naomi...can you hear me?...You're in hospital my love...can you open your eyes properly so I can have a proper look at you?" the voice came from above and to one side of her.

Naomi grimaced as the thudding in her head and jaw came back with a vengeance. Her mouth tasted foul too and she realised at some stage she had been sick. She groaned miserably.

" _Fuck_...mouth tastes like a toilet and my head is bursting...water?" she gritted as the waves of nausea and pain swept over her. She felt someone adjusting her pillow and lifting her head onto it.

A bright pencil torch beam was shone into her eyes in turn, which made her head swim again, but the medic smiled afterwards, so she must have seen something she was happy with.

"You've had a nasty knock to the head, but you're OK. The consultant will be along shortly to tell you more, but we gave you a CT scan as soon as you arrived and there's no sign of anything significant. You need to rest and stay still for a little longer, just in case there are any after effects. My name is Doctor Cho...I'm the A&E resident F2, so I'll be treating you after the consultant decides what's next. I'll prescribe something stronger than paracetamol now you're awake. That'll ease the headaches...but you have to help us too Naomi...stay calm and don't try to get up or dash about? You've been lucky. Now...lets get some water into you?"

The woman...because Naomi's eyes had adjusted enough to make out her face now...held a tumbler of water to the blondes lips. It tasted like nectar and she sighed in relief as the harsh taste of vomit receded.

"Where...where is this place" she said huskily.

"You're in the James Paget Hospital in Gorleston...a few miles from Great Yarmouth...that's where you were on holiday?"

"Yeah" Naomi said slowly "b...but..." Her brain finally caught up with the events of today...or at least what she hoped was still 'today'

"How long have I been here...and where's Emily?" she croaked before taking another sip of water. Her throat was sore and scratchy.

The woman… Dr Cho?… shook her head.

"I don't know about an Emily...but perhaps she's outside in the relatives area. I'll check for you Naomi. You've been here about three hours now. Brought in by ambulance from the caravan site in Yarmouth. Can you tell me where exactly you were staying and what day you think it is today?"

Naomi blinked at that. It took a couple of moments for her head to clear enough to answer.

"Uh...right. Umm, we were staying at the Vauxhall caravan park...and today's Thursday...right?"

The Doctors face softened in a smile.

"That's right. Its Thursday afternoon. Can you tell me what month and year it is Naomi?"

The blonde gave an annoyed huff, but realised the medic was just trying to assess her now she was conscious.

"Its the 28th March 2018 and that stupid cow Theresa May is still Prime Minister...isn't _that_ a fucking shame?"

The doctor smothered a grin and put the glass back on the bedside table.

"Um...you might say that, but I couldn't possibly comment" she said, chuckling. "It looks like the knock on the head hasn't affected you _that_ much?"

Naomi sighed and let her head relax into the pillow.

"If you mean I'm still the sarcastic cow I always was...then I suppose that's a good thing...now, can I ask you to get Emily for me...she'll be worried and I really need to see her?"

"Yeah sure...I'll get a nurse to find her and bring her up here. In the meantime, we'll get you those painkillers, right?"

Naomi nodded weakly. Painkillers and Emily...that sounded fucking perfect right now.

…

As Dr Cho was leaving the side ward and making her way down the corridor towards the nurses station, Emily Fitch was moving too.

But not towards her lover.

She was in a fast car, being driven at speed back down the trunk road. Not towards the hospital, but rather London. In the car with her was the French Detective and two of the MIT officers from Scotland Yard. Unfortunately for Emily, after the events in Paris and Yarmouth, the promise from the local detectives to take her to see her girlfriend had been broken. She was a material witness to one murder and the potential victim of another. They were taking her to Scotland Yard.

 **Thanks for reading. More later this week.**


	25. Chapter 25

**I surprise myself sometimes with the speed I update. Which may or may not be a pleasant surprise to readers, depending on your opinion. Still, here we go again. Warning for some unpleasant 'imagery' in this chapter. Sorry about that, but gangland villains are seldom well rounded individuals.**

Rebecca Wright was angry. Not your average pissed off, got a parking ticket, then stepped in dog shit angry...but _proper_ angry.

The sort of anger that precipitates an explosion of some sort. For months now she had been carefully cultivating a new 'client' for Max Zimmer. A major distributor of class A drugs in the Liverpool area. His normal import source and contact had been taken down by a special team from the Merseyside Police. At the moment he was buying from a third party in Holland...at a dramatically increased base cost. So he was looking for another 'safe' supplier for the 50 kilos a month he needed to supply his clubbers and street dealers.

And Rebecca, with a combination of judicious flirtation and hard nosed business negotiation skills, had all but persuaded him to use Max to replace his original importer. Max would gain a regular customer who could spend a cool million plus a month and the new customer would have peace of mind and a constant flow of powder.

But all that was completely out of the window now. Fucking Max and his insistence on wreaking lethal revenge on the Stonem girl, plus anyone who was in the vicinity, had upended a fucking termites nest. Killing the Stonem girl in Paris had been high risk in the first place. Foreign cities are much harder to micro manage. The police there have their paid informants and are usually taking money from their own crooks and home grown 'talent'. Crapping on someone else's doorstep is typically very bad for business.

But in his rage at the intended set up, Max had extended the contract to include the girlfriend, Emily Fitch and by recent association, the Campbell girl too. The ripples from this were spreading out of control.

And now to add to the shit storm, the fucking operative Max had given the contract to had royally screwed up. Her sources at Scotland Yard...the ones who hadn't run for cover at the first sign of trouble that is... told her the killer had been taken down by two have a go hero's and was now in custody in some Godforsaken carrot crunching police station in darkest Norfolk. Somewhere she had no influence and no contacts either.

Bad enough the paid killer was caught just before he carried out the hit, but now there were two live witnesses out there who were now under heavy protection, probably spilling everything they knew about one Maxwell Zimmer. Her main client. The man who enabled her to drive a sparkling new Audi R8 and own outright a Chelsea riverside apartment. The man who'd financed her extravagant lifestyle since she graduated from law school.

But worse than that, the man who could also bring it all down round her ears. To add insult to injury, her new potential client in Manchester… a man who was so averse to bad publicity that he made a Trappist Monk seem gregarious….had called her just after breakfast this morning (which she had been sharing with a rather pretty 2nd year university student she'd picked up at a gay bar last night and spent half the night noisily screwing) and informed her that the deal was off. He didn't do business with people who murdered without good reason. No doubt there were a number of weighed down corpses in the Manchester Ship Canal who would disagree, but the man was pragmatic about murder. Killing was a last resort. Killing out of pure rage was careless and led to lots of unwanted attention.

So the deal was firmly off. The £15,000 a month she was looking forward to as commission was gone too.

But it wasn't even the loss of money that burned. Lately, she'd been getting less and less sure about continuing her business arrangement with Zimmer. At first it had been easy just to do his bidding. Sort out complicated money laundering operations, arrange bail for the odd street dealer who got pinched by local cops...even act as a go between for him when he needed a favour pulling with the Met. But things had been getting a bit 1930's Chicago lately. Cooks little 'on the side' tart was just one of the bodies that had been popping up lately. It seemed like Max was doing a Capone. Getting rid of anyone who crossed him with lethal force. But unlike prohibition era America, the UK establishment looked on extreme violence against its citizens with a great deal of disapproval. The murder of Elizabeth Stonem and the attempted killing of the other two girls was attracting ALL the wrong sort of attention.

Rebecca's expensive heels clicked busily on the marble floor of the anonymous glass and steel office block foyer as she made for the lifts. The shell company which she had set up for him was based here. Nothing too flash, but opulent enough to persuade any casual observer that this was a legitimate business. She knew Max would be in this lunchtime, probably having one of those expensive restaurant order in lunches he loved so much.

Getting out of the lift on the 7th floor, she ignored the receptionist and made straight for the familiar corner office with its heavy plain hardwood door and blacked out glass floor to ceiling windows. She needed to talk to her boss, pronto...whatever high priced lunch or meeting he was in the middle of.

"Oh... _Rebecca?_...Umm...Max said he was _definitely_ NOT to be disturbed, oh.. _SHIT!_ " she heard the girl call out. If she'd been less distracted by her own anger, she might have noted the genuine alarm in the girls voice and the scrabbling as Sarah tried to get in front of her.

The door was closed, but not locked. Normally unless there was a nuclear attack alert, nothing would persuade his PA to interrupt him. Max had made it very clear from day one that when the ' _do not disturb_ ' insert on the door was visible, no one was to come in. _No_ one.

An hour after Rebecca pushed the heavy door open and walked straight in, she was still screaming mentally at herself for being such a stupid bitch.

…

Max had had a reasonable morning up to then. He hadn't yet got the bad news about his hired killers arrest and, as far as he knew his tame brief Rebecca Wright had used that sharp mind and those glorious tits to seal a very lucrative business arrangement with the Northern syndicate boss. Life was good.

So good in fact, he decided to give himself a special treat. He ordered in from an overpriced Japanese restaurant on London Wall, then made a short call to a private number. A few hushed exchanges and his 'special treat' was on the way.

Max liked his lovers young...very young. His tastes were not common knowledge, otherwise some of his criminal contemporaries might very much disapprove. But he was discrete...and he had enough money to buy what he wanted. Normally it would happen in one of his three Canary Wharf apartments. Anonymous, private. But today he was feeling a little reckless. A beautifully prepared Japanese sushi platter, followed by a beautifully prepared Japanese boy. Trained, willing and extremely eager to please. Even as he put handset back in its charger cradle, he could feel himself hardening in his trousers. He'd had the boy once before...as part of a double treat. His source had gone on for weeks about how pleasing the boy from Okinawa and his identical twin sister could be for discerning clients. So one night he'd paid the $5000 it cost for a single evening of carnal delights with them.

He had not been disappointed. Together and separately, they had drained him of every ounce of energy. When they left in the morning, he was hard pressed to even wave goodbye.

But strangely, after the event...it was the boy he remembered most sweetly.

So today he decided to treat himself to another, more _specialised_ Japanese delicacy.

…

Rebecca opened her mouth to start the difficult conversation, but stopped before a word could emerge. Max was sitting behind his desk, tie undone and head back. He appeared at first to be sleeping...or so she assumed. In any case his mouth was open as he stared at the ceiling. But that was before she heard the...err, noises.

Rebecca was hardly an innocent. As Max's dedicated employee, she'd done more than her share of 'extra' work on his behalf. It was an occasionally unpleasant part of her role. Fucking Cook the other night had been less of a duty, even if his anatomy wasn't her preferred type. At least he had been predictable and surprisingly skilful. A horny male was easy enough to please. So, finally realising that Max was obviously getting a blow job wasn't totally shocking. If it had been one of the secretaries or a girl from an agency, she'd probably have reddened with embarrassment, shut her gaping mouth and quietly backed out.

Unfortunately for her, she'd walked in at the precise moment Max's little helper had got the gangster to the critical point of the exercise. While she stood there frozen with indecision, the choice was taken out of her hands. Max, eyes still closed, reached down with both hands and gripped the head of his fellator. His mouth opened even further, breathing so fast it looked to her as if he might overdose on oxygen. Guttural grunts came from him as whoever was under that desk diligently finished the job.

Just as Rebecca decided to try for a quiet exit, a head appeared from under the desk, followed by a half naked body. A very young body. She gasped as she realised for the first time that a: it was a boy, not a girl from the office and b: that whoever it was, he was of middle school age.

Her horrified gasp was what finally alerted Max to her presence. His expression morphed from satisfied delight, through absolute horror, into purple faced rage.

"WHAT THE _**FUCK**_?" he bellowed as she stood there with a hand over her mouth.

"Get the fuck _out_ of here you nosy bitch" he screamed at her, spit flecking his chin. With a terrible certainty, she knew at that moment whatever her value to him as an employee had been up to now, her days were numbered. Literally.

So she turned and ran.

And ran….

By the time she'd pulled to the side of the road a mile away, the expensive Audi growling even as it idled, her mind was already made up. Max would hunt her down for this, for discovering his weakness. She knew with a sick feeling in her stomach that he would make sure she kept his secret. The killer now in custody wasn't the only employee who was prepared to have blood on his hands. Feverishly, she considered her (very limited) options as she sat with the doors locked, staring sightlessly at the road in front of her. If she carried on running, he would catch up with her eventually. Going back to apologise and reason with him would end badly too. It didn't take long for her to come up with the only other viable solution.

…

In a secret location in West London, Emily Fitch paced the room, biting the inside of her cheek in frustration. Instead of being taken to Scotland Yard as expected, the car had circled the capital south and ended up in an anonymous street in Wandsworth. As the police car had turned for the last time on the journey, she saw a street sign. ' _Santos Road_ ' it said. Not that it mattered at that point. All she knew was it was a long, long way from Great Yarmouth and her sick girlfriend. Her fellow travellers had been almost mute on the way down. Each attempt she made to engage in conversation only gained her a brief one or two word reply. It was clear they had decided any conversations would have to wait until they reached the destination.

Which turned out to be a mid sized Victorian terraced house, identical to its neighbours apart from one detail. Between this end terrace red brick and the next was a narrow access alley, barely wide enough for the unmarked car to navigate. Once at the rear of the property, the car did a slick reverse in the rear cobbled alley and backed into a three sided car port. Only then did the occupants appear to relax. The burly detective next to her sighed in relief and spoke.

"Right Miss Fitch. Sorry about all the cloak and dagger stuff, but now we're here I can give you some information about what we know. Lets get inside and have a cup of tea…?"

Unwilling to respond with her own fears quite yet, Emily shrugged miserably and waited until the driver opened her door, he nodded towards a grimy back entrance. The French detective in the other front seat had said nothing at all since they left the caravan park, and she didn't break her duck now. Silently, she followed Emily and the others inside.

Once the kettle was on in the small galley kitchen and the back door locked (Emily noted grimly that it appeared to be steel reinforced with the glazed top half covered in that silvered one way film people used for privacy), she was ushered into a large open plan lounge that looked as if it had originally been two rooms. There was a faint but pungent smell of curry throughout the place which tied in with the area. She'd seen lots of Asian people and children walking around as they drove down the road. A normal London street scene, if you discounted the coppers surrounding her.

"Emily...would you like to take a seat" the French detective said in only slightly accented English. It was a bit of a shock...not the perfect diction, but the fact that the woman actually had a voice, Emily thought bitterly as she sullenly complied.

She sat with folded arms, glaring at her captors.

"So...is someone gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" she said flatly "...all I know so far is that my ex has been murdered in France and the guy who did it was looking to kill me and Naomi too?"

It was only as she said it out loud that the reality of her situation fully hit home. Instead of her boring, mundane normal life, she had been abruptly pitched into a world of drugs, murder and rape. Things like this only happened in films, didn't they?

The French woman didn't blink, just let the silence linger for a second.

"I know...its hard to take in Emily...but let me introduce myself first, now we're in a safe place. My name is Elise Wasserman. I'm a detective with the Paris Police Nationale… as you now know, we discovered the body of your uh... _ex_...girlfriend in the bath at the room you shared at the Hotel du Haut Marais. I'm sorry to say that she'd been strangled with a ligature...identical to the one found at the caravan park where you and...Naomi?...had been staying until today. There's not much doubt that the same man was involved. There isn't a lot of CCTV footage available..." she looked up at the other detective who was coming in with three steaming mugs of tea..."...we French are not quite so fond of constant surveillance as you British?" her mouth twisted in a wry smile. "...but on this occasion, there was a traffic camera directly outside in the boulevard. Its the same man"

Emily swallowed hard. Although it didn't take a genius to work it all out, for the first time it was becoming clear that the man who'd visited them in their hideaway wasn't just there for a bit of unwanted rough sex. Once she'd pleasured him sufficiently, both her and Naomi would have been strangled with the same length of wire he'd used to kill poor Effy.

Her throat constricted in sudden misery and her hands went up to her neck defensively. The detective smiled at her in understanding and continued.

"Now, I've spoken to these officers and we think we know most of the facts. Basically, we believe that there was a complicated little _ménage_ going on between you and your next door neighbours?"

Emily's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to protest. Who said anything about group sex? The French woman had the grace to look a little sheepish about her phrasing.

"Sorry Emily...I forgot the translation can be a little clumsy. Ménage in French isn't just used for what I guess you are thinking. It just means a household arrangement. Although we are aware that there _was_ certainly a sexual element, non?"

Emily reddened and sipped her tea as a distraction.

"So..." the woman continued. "You're aware that your gi...uh, Naomi, was originally living with James Cook, who was employed by a man called Max Zimmer? Well known in London as a major player in the narcotics world?"

Again Emily nodded reluctantly.

"Short version then...you and Naomi _reconnect_ and Elizabeth..."

"Effy" Emily automatically corrected.

"Yes...Effy. Right...well, _Effy_ is a little put out that you have resumed your _affaire_ with Naomi...so she does two things. First she goes away with Mr Cook on some sort of drugs trade, she sleeps with him. _Then_ , she sets him up on a sting with an undercover policewoman, hoping to get him arrested and Naomi implicated by association, therefore making you doubt her and presumably force you to end your liaison...am I right so far?"

"Yes" Emily admitted miserably. Laid out like that it sounded even more sordid. She _had_ cheated with Naomi and Cook _was_ a drug dealer. She had a tiny mental flash image of her mothers horrified face when the grim facts inevitably reached her. She shivered in spite of the warm weather and hot tea.

"OK...so the man Cook works for lashes out in revenge at his lucrative business being threatened. Finds out Eliz... _Effy_...is the person who set it up and has her killed. If you'd been in the hotel room when he arrived, there would have been two bodies found. But luckily you had left Paris already. So...he was tasked with finding you...as the unwitting, but associated loose end in all this. You and Naomi understandably had already decided to get out of town together. But he tracked you down. As luck would have it, the security guard and groundsman were suspicious about him and intervened. And here we all are…?"

She sat back in her chair, ignoring the mug of awful tea. Bloody Brits, never a decent coffee to be had.

Emily shivered and hugged herself as the three policemen waited for her to answer.

Finally she took a deep breath and spoke in a low voice.

"I've been so fucking stupid. Apart from the odd joint in college, I've not even been much of a user, let alone had anything to do with dealing. I knew Cook passed around the occasional wrap of powder at Roundview, but until Effy and me moved up here, I'd almost forgotten he was even alive. How did I get from starting a new job in London to being hunted by a hit-man in a couple of weeks?"

(The night of MDMA excess with Effy and the Paris whores had temporarily slipped her mind)

Tears stung her eyes as she let the self pity she had held at bay for hours come through. Just being with Naomi...even on the run as it were, had buried her doubts up to now. Even if she'd thought about what they were doing, she was easily diverted by the beautiful blonde. Her carefully manufactured new life post Roundview had collapsed like a pack of cards at the first flash of those mesmerising blue eyes...that was the truth of it. If she hadn't had the bad luck to move in next to Naomi and Cook, the only thing she would be worried about today would be where to go on holiday next. In a couple of turbulent weeks, everything she relied on to keep the world the right way up was smashed beyond repair.

The detective spoke again as Emily brooded darkly over her fucked up new life.

"Listen Emily.,,..you need to start thinking of yourself for once. I know the police have that assassin in custody, but from here on in you have to get your priorities straight. Naomi will be guarded by the police in Norfolk until she's well enough to be taken to another safe house. Until this Max guy is locked up...for good...you two will still be in danger, as will James Cook. A team from Scotland Yard are at his apartment right now, but unless the guy arrested talks... which if he's a pro is pretty unlikely...we have no direct evidence tying him to the murder in Paris or the attempt on your lives. Basically, we have to be patient. We may find some forensics to link our murderous friend with him, but these people are careful. You may have to stay here for a little while?"

Emily's heart sank at that. With Naomi in Norfolk for the time being and Effy now in a morgue in Paris, who could she rely on apart from these characters.

Then her mind clicked into gear again. Fuck...how dumb could she be...of _course_.

"My sister...Katie? She'll be frantic with worry? Can you..no fuck that...can _I_ talk to her?...I need someone with me I can trust absolutely"

The woman glanced at the other detectives before answering.

"I think that might just be possible...but give me her number and I'll call her for you?"

…

A hundred miles north, Naomi was just getting the same sort of news. She was to spend a night in the side ward, complete with uniformed accessory outside her door. Then she was to be taken down to London too. But not to the house Emily was being held in. Instead she was going to be lodged with one James Cook in a North London safe house. The Met wanted them both to be available for further questioning, specially as Cook was still on bail and had a court appearance coming up.

…

At Kilburn Police Station, chosen because it was definitely _not_ one of the places Max had coppers on the payroll, a smartly dressed woman stepped out of her shiny Audi R8, ignoring the curious and envious looks from the shift change going on. She walked briskly into the lobby and waited for the person in front of her to report a missing cat. Then she took a deep breath and smiled winningly at the civilian manning the desk.

"My name is Rebecca Wright and I would like...no I _have_...to speak to the station Superintendent. I have vital information about a major drug cartel, including several murders?"

"Blimey" the middle aged woman behind the glass said, "...now _t_ _hats_ a request we don't get every day?"

The elegant visitor perched gingerly on the worn seat against the wall and waited for the woman to make the call. Rolling the dice, she thought to herself...just rolling the fucking dice.

 **More soon, if you want it, including an angry and protective KFF, who could resist?**


	26. Chapter 26

Naomi

It had been two days now. Two days since she'd been discharged from the James Paget hospital, then been driven the hundred or so miles back down to London, complete with armed escort. Two fucking days…

And not a word from Emily.

At first she grudgingly accepted the excuse the police put up about phone access and the difficulties associated with being in protective custody. But that wore thin when the women detective that had been assigned to with her and Cook in the safe house had at last, reluctantly offered to call for her. The conversation had taken place in the next room while Naomi sat in a lumpy armchair and glowered at Cook. He'd been brought there from the Canary Wharf apartment on the second day. At first she studiously ignored him, just giving him baleful looks when he tried to speak to her. But by now they'd progressed to stilted exchanges. "Pass the salt" and "Have you finished in the bathroom?" being as personal as it got.

But after the call to the other safe house, it seemed pointless using up all her anger on her hapless ex. He was as trapped as she was, unable to go anywhere, even for a packet of fags or a beer. Cook without the liberty to roam was a pathetic spectacle.

In the end, she never did get to speak to Emily direct. But she _did_ get to listen to Katie Fitch...at some considerable length. The policewoman, after talking to someone the other end, came back into the room and held out her phone. The look on her face didn't make Naomi's spirits lift much.

"Its Emily's sister, Naomi...But I think she..." was as far as she got before the blonde snatched the handset from her.

Katie was never one for polite introductions. Even at Roundview it was either ' _who_ _the fuck are you looking at?_ ' or 'well... _get_ _it out then_ _, I'm going down_ _on you?_ '

Basic….that was Katie.

"My sister isn't speaking to you period, Campbell...have you _any_ idea how fucked up her life has ended up since she had the misfortune to bump into you again? Effy is fucking _dead_ , you bitch, and my sister blames herself for it. Well, _I_ don't. I blame _you_...you and that useless streak of piss you've been using as a pogo stick and beard since we left college"

Katie paused for breath and for a millisecond, Naomi foolishly thought she might get the chance to say something, but the hope was short lived.

"Katie, I..."

" _No_...you don't get to say anything to me bitch. Emily is in bits and I'm not letting you fuck her up any more. She's having a nice long bath right now. If I have anything to do with it, this is the last time either of us will ever have contact with you...until you're in the dock at the Old Bailey anyway. You and Cook. Fucking drug dealers and gangsters?...What fucking _happened_ to you? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?"

"Katie...I...it's not _all_ my fault...Cook, he...he..." Naomi tried to interrupt again pointlessly.

"Cook is a fucking low criminal...always was. Expelled from college, banged up for hammering that fucking idiot Shanky at some shitty student party and now arse deep in serious drug dealing. And _don't_ tell me you didn't fucking know what he did for a living. How did you think an apartment in that sort of swanky block was paid for? Definitely not from a proper job, like Emily had…, yeah _had_ _._ She's lost that too, just to make her even more depressed. For some unknown reason, her bosses think an employee getting involved with a drug gang and being almost raped and murdered is a bit bad for their image? She got a fucking P45 in the post at home yesterday...thanks for that last little present, cunt….obviously my mum is even more of a fan of yours than ever?"

By this time, Naomi was just shaking her head, biting her lip and letting the hate wash over her. Katie had always disliked her, even at college. But now she had good reason to. Naomi had no answers to give which sounded even mildly reasonable. She'd known exactly what Cook did for a living. Telling herself that as long as he kept it out of the house it was fine, was just self serving bullshit. They _had_ both brought this on themselves, Emily and poor dead Effy were just collateral damage.

"Right...well as long as that's clear" Katie finished venomously as the silence lengthened "...we're good. You get on with your sad little gangster existence...after you get out of prison that is...and I'll try to get some normality back into my sisters life. When this mob boss, or whatever he is...is locked up, I never want to hear your name or see your face again. If I _do_...trust me, I can be as deadly as any fucking hit man Campbell. I'll mark you for life"

With that, the line went dead. Naomi's heart died a little too.

…

"Who was that you were shouting at?" Emily said as she walked back into the lounge in a short tee with a towel wrapped over her wet hair. The bath had been comforting, but she was still upset that Naomi hadn't called. Her own phone had been taken for evidence, even if it was a pay as you go cheapie. The handset left in her wardrobe when she and Effy had taken off to Paris was also in an evidence bag somewhere. She'd asked if one of the policemen could find out how Naomi was, but they'd stalled her for the past two days. Then Katie had arrived and it suddenly felt like the house was crowded. Katie did what Katie always does...took total control of her sisters life.

"Fucking Campbell" Katie said shortly "..and before you say something dippy Emily...I told her to leave you the fuck alone. Its all her fault you're stuck in this crappy place...with scary gangsters after you. You need to put her and everything about her where it belongs...in the past. She's never been anything but bad news for you?"

Emily stared in utter shock at her sister. Then she let her have it.

" **Katie**...I've been waiting to talk to her for fucking _days_?" How dare you tell her to fuck off. I _love_ her...always have and we...we..."

"Yeah yeah..." Katie said dismissively, folding her arms and tapping her foot as Emily glared at her "...loves young dream? When are you gonna grow the fuck up Emily? Campbell and that cunt Cook are druggies and criminals...the only place they're going is somewhere with very high walls. Forget her...you deserve better?"

Emily gaped at that level of hypocrisy.

"Err...hello...is this the Katie Fitch who hoovered up industrial quantities of MDMA at college...who spiked the brownies at Panda's pyjama party, getting her mother completely off her face...and who spent hours on Brandon Hill with a spliff in her gob, when something else wasn't occupying her mouth... _that_ Katie Fitch?"

Katie spluttered even as Emily refused to back down. But she wasn't letting go of this bone.

"We were just kids then Em...thats not a fair comparison, I grew out of it… experimentation, right? And anyway...you liked a little toot yourself now and again back then...that lamo party was the first time I saw you and Campbell snogging the face off each other on the bouncy castle in the garden...so I think maybe the MDMA was fine with you too then?"

But Emily still wasn't buying Katies bullshit.

" _So_ not the point Katie. It's my decision whether or not I want anything to do with Naomi. Well, I do...so get used to it?"

Katie's eyes narrowed and she played her trump card. She'd been holding on to it for the past 48 hours, biding her time.

"Right...and that's what you're gonna say to mum and dad yeah?" she sneered.

Emily wavered, but bit back.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. They'll have to get used to the fact that Naomi's back in my life. I'm not 16 any more Katie...neither you or they decide what I do or who I love?"

Katie's face creased in a wry smile.

"OK...fine...if that's your decision. You can tell them yourself?"

Again Emily wobbled, but she was determined to get this out.

"I will...in fact, I'll phone them right now if that detective will lend me her phone?"

"No need Emsy" Katie said slyly "...you can tell them face to face...they're on their way up here from Bristol...the cops just said they could visit their darling daughters?"

The blood drained from Emily's face as Katie grinned maliciously at her. _Here_ …?

"You fucking _bitch_..." was all she could manage, and that in a voice so hoarse, it sounded like she had a serious dose of the flu.

…

In a small room on the top floor of Kilburn police station, Rebecca Wright was still singing like the proverbial canary. She'd been here for 2 days now. Answering questions for hours on end during the daylight hours and sleeping in the Inspectors rest room at night. If this was the last throw of the dice, she'd decided to go for broke. Three MIT officers from Scotland Yard and a Deputy Chief Constable were virtual residents here too. Ever since the shocked civilian desk clerk had relayed her message to the station Superintendent, it was as if the place had been taken over. Locked in an interview room for two hours while her identity was confirmed and her apartment sealed off, it had only taken a phone call by the Superintendent to the Serious Crime Unit at the Yard for wheels to be very much set in motion. Once they realised who was volunteering to squeal, the big guns were in cars and on their way in minutes. They seconded the top floor of the station and used three offices to carry out interviews, accommodate the detectives and store evidence.

Because there was lots and lots of evidence. Not on paper...Rebecca was too fly for that. But as a careful and intelligent woman, she knew this day might come. Max was unpredictable at best as an employer. But now, with his dirty little secret out, he would be like a wounded and cornered tiger. Lashing out at all around him and trying to cover his tracks.

But the three little flash drives sellotaped under the bathroom vanity unit in Rebecca's apartment was a treasure trove of information. Dates, times, quantities, sources, contacts and better still, phone camera footage, both video and audio of meetings and deals. If they'd thought she might be a good witness coming in to this, by now they knew that their star informer held the key to a major take down of the biggest dealer in London. Before she'd even started giving verbal evidence on tape, several raids were already in progress.

Max himself, in the middle of a crisis meeting with his three most senior lieutenants, was arrested without a struggle in the office Rebecca had run from a few hours before. The police knew his paid informants inside the Met would be busy covering their tracks too, so simultaneous arrests were being carried out all over London. Within 12 hours of her arriving at the police station, men and women, both police officers and civilians were being held at various secure locations all over the capital. The lawyers digital files were so comprehensive, the Met were able to virtually shut down Zimmers whole operation inside 24 hours.

His criminal associates, at least the ones not on the payroll, did what villains do in these circumstances...they either kept their heads well below the parapet or headed for sunnier climes. An overdue holiday if you like.

Rebecca knew all too well that Zimmer would have already put out a contract on her head, but with his main assassin in custody in Norwich, it was all a bit late. The Met were determined to keep her safe. The charging and remanding of the suspects would take weeks in all. Then there was the thorny problem of where to incarcerate them. Better all round that their little canary was comfortable and secure.

So, after another day of interviews and questions, a little known destination was decided on for her accommodation from then on in. A small and isolated air base in Kent had been prepared years before for this sort of witness protection. Inside the fenced and guarded perimeter was a single storey block built to accommodate high value individuals in comfort. After the utilitarian drabness of Kilburn police station, she found it more than satisfactory, at least for now. A lounge, double bedroom and kitchen, plus a decent en suite. The outer door might be locked at night to prevent wandering, but Rebecca had the place to herself otherwise. TV, satellite, radio and even an entertainment centre was provided. The only luxury she was deprived of was her smart phone...but that was inevitable.

The lawyer settled into her new accommodation with a resigned sigh. This was her life for the next 6 months, she knew. Then a new identity, a fresh passport and enough cash to begin to live again…

…

Naomi Campbell was not quite so sanguine about her own future. She spent an hour after the call from Katie crying bitterly in the small room they had given her. Cook had tried to ask her what had upset her so badly, but just looking at his concerned face brought into sharp focus all her anger, both at him and herself.

"Just leave me the fuck alone Cook...we've screwed it all up between us and now Emily won't even talk to me... _again_ "

"Sorry babe" he said and the genuine concern on his face made the cutting remark she was about to make lodge in Naomi's throat. He might be at fault, but so was she. Non one came out of this cluster fuck innocent. Even Emily had knowingly cheated on Effy, so they all bore some responsibility for the thing going sideways.

Instead she sighed miserably and shrugged.

"Its not fair, me blaming you for it all Cook. I knew what was going to happen the moment I saw Emily again. Its like I don't have any self control around her. One glance from those fucking Bambi eyes and I'm toast. I knew what you did to earn the rent, so I'm a fucking hypocrite for saying its all down to you. I cheated on you and you cheated on me...we're a pair of fuck ups?"

At first Cook stared at her with out speaking. He certainly didn't expect his fiery ex to subside quite so quickly. But then he nodded too, easing himself into the seat beside her, but careful not to physically touch her. She might be softening, but he wasn't _that_ stupid…

"Yeah...we're both fuck ups alright Naomi...but its all in the open now, right. I knew as soon as you two saw each other again it was all over for you and me. I was always second prize…."

He shook his head as Naomi opened her mouth to argue.

"Naah babe...Cookie isn't as daft as people think, is he? Once she spotted you again, it was just a matter of time. Me and Effy were just spectators. I shagged her...and I'm sorry I cheated Naomi, but she was feeling like second prize too I'm thinking. But being Effy she was never gonna go down without a fight? Trouble is she picked the wrong person to scrap with. Old Max is a right mad cunt when things don't go his way. We're in the shit babe, even if the cops protect us for a while?"

Just as Naomi was considering that extra worry, one of the detectives tasked with protecting them came into the room in a rush, holding his phone. By the looks of his face, something big had happened.

"Listen up guys" he said breathlessly "...things have moved on big time. That sexy brief Zimmer has doing his dirty work for him…?"

" _Rebecca?_ " Cook and Naomi said together. Both had good reason to remember her vividly, although Cook had a little more intimate knowledge than the blonde.

"Yeah, thats her...all Armani suits and cleavage?" the cop said knowingly.

Naomi winced, remembering that cleavage briefly tempting her the night she'd been bailed. Cook kept a poker face even though he'd seen a lot more of the pretty lawyer when she stayed the night with _him_.

"Gave herself up...something about Max Zimmer being a closet pedo? Anyway, she's in protective custody now too. Singing like a prize canary...providing evidence and everything. Your old boss is basically fucked Cook. Just heard there's been a dozen raids all over the city this morning. All the players in his outfit are either in custody or on a plane to Marbella by now. And with his pet killer in a secure location too, looks like you guys will just have to be here a little while longer now before we let you go. You've both given statements...I know you're on bail James, but I have a feeling the CPS will want to have a chat to you about giving evidence in return for them dropping the charges?"

Cooks face reflected his mixed feelings about _that_ possibility.

"I ain't no grass, mate" he said flatly.

"Fuck off Cook...your boss is done...his whole operation is done. Be sensible for once in your life" Naomi said harshly "...you think he gives a single fuck about you now? He'd have happily seen you sent down for a couple of years just to make even more money. This is our chance, you dummy. Just tell the police what you know and we can get the fuck out of here and start to put our lives back together?"

Cook looked sullenly at his hands.

"Yeah, that'd be fine for _you_ blondie, sailing off into the sunset with little red...but I'd still be minus a job _and_ a girlfriend?" he said.

Naomi took his hand in hers while the young detective watched them silently.

"Cook mate..we both know we were on the outs well before the shit hit the fan? Its been great...truly...I'll never forget how good you've been to me these past few years...but I'm gay Cook...it just took finding Emily again to confirm it. But you'll always be my best mate. Who else would put up with my sarcastic shit?" she smiled gently at his crestfallen expression.

Cook took a deep breath and Naomi thought for a moment he might carry on arguing, but he squeezed her hand instead.

"I make you right I suppose...my fault for shacking up with a straight A student I suppose...you always were the smart one blondie?"

Naomi shrugged.

"Maybe I'm not quite so smart Cookie boy...I've been well and truly warned off by Katie Fitch...apparently if I ever darken the Fitches doorstep again, she'll kill me herself without the help of a hit man?" her smile wobbled a bit as she remembered the cold venom in the twins voice...and the complete absence of any word from Emily herself. It looked like the younger twin had reverted to type and walked away yet again. First it was Effy, reclaiming her possession, then the flight to Paris when the flat had been raided at dawn. Now she had the fierce KFF as a barrier between them. Perhaps fate was trying to tell her something after all. Things weren't always meant to work out. For the first time since the pretty brunette had come back into their lives, Naomi started to think it would never be right again. Emily was lost to her.

…

Emily herself was just about to launch in to another attack on her sisters interference when the French detective, Elise Wasserman walked into the room. Unlike Naomi's guard, she wasn't exactly jumping with excitement. Her involvement began and ended with the untimely death of Elizabeth Stonem in a Paris hotel. With the probable assassin in custody in the UK and his employer and fellow crooks being systematically locked up, her work here was almost done. But there was one last end to tie up.

"Emily..could I have a word with you in private?" she said quietly.

Katie bristled at being excluded, but the slim detective was adamant.

Huffing in annoyance, Emily's twin was persuaded to leave the room and go upstairs. Elise sat with Emily on the couch.

"This is a little delicate Emily...but with the arrest of the man who set out to kill you and probably murdered Elizabeth... my time here is almost up. The British police will liaise with my boss in Paris regarding charges. It may be that this man will be deported to face murder charges in France...maybe not. We have certain...reciprocal arrangements...for this sort of crime? Anyway, thats not what I wanted to talk to you about. You'll be pleased to hear that there have been a number of arrests today. The killers boss, and most of his gang. Plus their corrupt lawyer has come forward and is providing vital evidence about all sorts of criminal activity. I think the man who ordered your assassination will have too many other things to worry about from now on to concern himself with two girls who got mixed up in something over their heads?"

She paused to take something from her jacket pocket.

"But one thing you should understand Emily is that although there are many similarities between the way the British and French police work, there are also significant differences. This one is an example. In the UK, evidence...however irrelevant... is retained and may be available to both prosecution and defence...and therefore can be presented and examined in court."

She held out the object in her hand.

Emily gasped when she recognised it. It was a flash drive, identical to the one she had put into the computer and watched with growing horror back in Paris, then dumped in a flower vase. Her eyes flicked upwards to see the expression on the French detectives face. It was calm and reassuring.

"In matters of love...we French are a lot more, uh...delicate...than our British counterparts. People are entitled to their privacy when it comes to more, umm...personal...matters? To answer the question I know you are dying to ask...yes I have watched it Emily. And I am certain you would not want this shown in court to a public jury?"

Emily's hand flew up to her mouth at the prospect of the jury...and by definition the whole world, watching her being roundly fucked by two French whores in a Paris club.

Elise nodded.

"I thought not. And having watched it, I'm sure it has no bearing on the killing. Your girlfriend wanted for some reason to have something over you… something which no doubt you objected to, and that was the reason you walked out on her that morning?"

"Yes" Emily whispered, looking at the USB stick as if it might spring to life and begin spewing pornographic images onto the wall. "She got me drunk, slipped something into the champagne which got me completely off my head..must have been MDMA mixed with something else...GHB? Anyway, I have no memory of what I got up to in that club. First I knew was when she left that flash drive for me to 'enjoy' next morning. She knew I would be horrified?"

Elise nodded. It was what she expected to hear.

"OK...well, thats fine. The flash drive will not be used in evidence. In fact, why don't we make sure that you and I are the only two people alive who will ever know it existed?"

With that she put the small stick into an ashtray and walked through to the kitchen holding it in front of her. Putting it down on the drainer next to the sink, she took a lighter from her pocket and lifted the plastic stick over the ashtray, flicking the ignition switch until a long yellow flame erupted from its top. Gradually, as she held it steady, the plastic coating began to melt. Within an minute, the whole structure was twisted and almost unrecognisable. Still smouldering, she dropped it into the ashtray and smiled in satisfaction.

"That should do it. The circuit board and chip inside will be melted too. _No_ one...even the best forensics experts, could recover any files from it now".

Emily sighed with relief. Now all she had to do was face her parents and find out if Naomi would ever speak to her again…

 **Thats it for now!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Thanks for the reviews and reads. Really stoked some people like it enough to comment. Makes it all worth while! I suppose I should insert the standard disclaimer here as I've neglected to for quite a bit. Skins is not mine, never will be and I borrow the characters shamelessly for entertainment purposes only. Mistakes are sadly all my own work and are never that entertaining. OK?**

 **Anyway...things have moved on a little, but not particularly in a good way.**

Moving day.

Naomi grumbled a bit, but her heart wasn't really in it. Its not as if she had a lot to pack. Whatever belongings had been in the caravan in Yarmouth were mostly destroyed now. Forensics had gone through their clothing and personal effects diligently. Which meant by the time they were finished, there wasn't much to save. The detectives who had guarded her and Cook in shifts had grudgingly gone to Asda to buy some essentials after some prompting. Jogging bottoms, sweat shirts and basic underwear, but neither she or Cook was about to take any of that drab shit 'home' with them this fine sunny morning, apart from what they were wearing.

' _Home_ ' being their old apartment on the Isle of Dogs...the one Naomi thought she'd never see the inside of again. What with the break up with Cook, the police raid and subsequent death threats, she hadn't believed she would ever cross that threshold this side of judgement day. But in about 30 minutes, thats exactly what she would be doing.

Its not as if the only alternative had any real attraction for her. Going down to Bristol to stay with her mum was usually a penance at the best of times, but now that one Emily Jane Fitch was apparently relocating back to her darling parents in the same provincial town (the detective who let _that_ one slip benefited from a Campbell death glare harsh enough to melt aluminium), it was out of the question. Naomi did actually manage to have a conversation with Emily just as the twin was about to be carted off by her gorgon of a mother and dutiful father. Katie was monopolising the safe house bathroom for the last time, so her sister had taken the opportunity to try to mend fences with Naomi.

It hadn't gone well.

"Yes?" Naomi grated as the phone was passed to her by a stony faced copper who barely attempted a thin smile.

"N..Naomi...thank God...you're OK...I'm so sorry its been so long...I _wanted_ to...but my phone, and and...the police uh...and then Katie said she…?" she trailed off.

Naomi was standing in the small garden of her own safe house by then. She could feel the eyes of her latest guardians watching her from an upstairs window.

"Yeah...bit of a familiar story for us Em" she said coldly. "Shit hits the fan, you do an instant runner, then someone else decides what you do next. Seen the film bought the fucking tee shirt?"

Her tone might be glacial, but inside she was already wobbling. Just the sound of that husky voice was almost... _almost_ enough to make her melt. But there was a shedload of suppressed anger built up inside her. Anger at Emily for being such a pussy yet again...at Cook for getting them into this shit in the first place and _lots_ of anger at herself for being such an idiot. She'd had enough time to overthink everything as per usual and it didn't help to make her mood any lighter. She might be being a little harsh, putting it all on Emily like this, but it would be the third time that things had gone sideways and each time, Emily had a ready made excuse to fall back on. Effy might have used her considerable skills on the prettier twin to reel her back in on the first occasion, but fucking off to Paris at the first sign of trouble too? Then when it was Naomi who'd rescued Emily from the assassin...well OK, maybe that didn't go _quite_ as planned but still... the truth is the time between them being split up by the Feds and today had turned into a silent, yawning vacuum. A vacuum now filled with doubt.

Katie Fitch spitting venom excepted of course. There wasn't much doubt about where _she_ stood on the matter.

There was a pregnant silence as Naomi waited for Emily to answer. When it came, it wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear.

"You're right Naoms...I fucked up again and again. I don't blame you for losing faith in me. I should have been braver at the beginning..."

Naomi shrugged, although over the phone it was a bit of a wasted gesture.

"So what are you gonna _do_ about it Emily? The cops have said I can go back to my old apartment...which I guess means you can too? Do you want to meet up when we get back...talk about things properly, now the mad assassin is out of action?"

Emily shivered at the mention of the dark eyed man who'd stood over her in the caravan. She still felt his presence, even though he was supposedly locked up for the duration. She remembered bleakly just what she had been prepared to do to stop him killing her out of hand and the gorge rose in her throat. Then an image of Effy dead in a Paris hotel bath flashed across her mind. She shivered violently. It was too much...she knew she could never go back to that empty apartment with her ex's things all over the place, reminding her starkly that it was her actions that started the whole shit storm off. No..she just couldn't.

"I….I can't go back to that apartment...not yet Naoms...not yet. I couldn't face it...all her things are there...I...I..."

Naomi felt her blood run cold as Emily began to stack up the familiar excuses. With the memory of Katies scalding anger still fresh, she knew where this was heading.

"Right...well, call me clairvoyant, babe but I think I know where this conversation is going? You're back off to Bristol with Katie...aren't you...back to mummy and daddy's neat and _safe_ little semi?"

Her tone was brutal and the fact that what she was saying was totally accurate made it even worse. Emily started to cry. Something that would have once made Naomi stop in her tracks. But not this time.

"Well...I guess thats it then Em. This is me...still a drug dealers moll and as I'm sure your delightful mother and sister will agree, the absolute _worst_ thing that ever happened to you...even if I do love you more than anything or anyone in this fucked up world?"

Emily sobbed at her words and tried her best to interrupt.

"No Naoms...please don't give up on us...look I _have_ to go back to Bristol right now. I can't be in that apartment...not yet and...and anyway... I don't even have a job in London...but give it a couple of weeks?...I'll sort things out then...then I'll come up and we can..."

Naomi scowled as she listened. Another wasted gesture.

"What...make things right? How exactly are you gonna do that Ems? Katie made it pretty clear what you Fitches think of me. That's not gonna change...and to be honest, you're never gonna be brave enough to decide for yourself, are you?...Why don't we both accept that its just not meant to happen?"

" _No_!" Emily shouted, making the splashing noises from the bathroom stop and her father call up to her from the hallway.

"Everything alright up there girls?" he shouted cheerily.

Emily stepped onto the landing and leaned over the bannister rail, trying as best she could to give him a reassuring smile.

"Its fine Dad...dropped something on my foot...almost just finishing packing?"

Rob's head disappeared from the stairwell and Emily crept back into the spare bedroom, holding the phone inside a cupped hand.

"Naomi...listen...I can't talk now...Katie...and mum and dad are.." she whispered

"Yeah...I heard Em...looks like not much has changed from Roundview days…?"

Emily bit her lip. She desperately wanted to end the conversation with some sort of hope...time was running out, what with her parents waiting downstairs and her sister all but finished her epic session in the bathroom.

"Naoms...please...look, what do I have to do to convince you I still feel the same way about you?...This is just a temporary delay, that's all. What can I do...tell me?"

Naomi considered for a moment, hearing Emilys ragged breathing on the other end as she waited. Her heart was screaming at her to agree...to put things on hold until things settled down. But her head was stronger, as always.

"I dunno Em...maybe grow a backbone?"

She heard the sharp intake of breath the other end, but her heart was hardening more and more. All her suppressed anger had an easy target now.

"But I think thats probably 20 years too late" she continued. "...go back to Bristol...start a new life...maybe find a _nice_ girl to settle down with? It's over between us"

Emily was sobbing again, trying to speak but the words were slurred with despair.

"No...please Naoms...don't say that...I'll do anything...anything?"

Naomi gripped the borrowed handset so hard her knuckles turned white.

"Anything but stand up to your family...anything but the hard decisions Em… and d'ya know what hurts the most...what _really_ fucking hurts?"

"W...what?" Emily choked, fearing the answer, but needing to hear it anyway.

"This whole conversation...you've not once said you love me too?"

Emily gaped at that...she had...surely, hadn't she? Except as she turned over the whole call in her head, she realised she hadn't. Not once.

"Naoms...of course I do...I...I lo..." she began, but the metallic click of disconnection was her only reply.

…

Two weeks….its been two weeks, Emily thought dully as she sorted through a pile of washing in the laundry room of her parents house. Life had gone on...she had gone on, but it was a shallow, empty existence. The confrontation with her parents had followed a predictable pattern before they left.

"Emily...its time for this nonsense to stop. You're twenty three years old for heavens sake. You had a good job, a nice place to live and were happy with...Elizabeth. Why would you destroy all that for a fling with...that woman of _all_ people?"

Emily had grimaced at the traditional description. Naomi had always been 'that' something or other. 'That girl' when they were at college...now it was 'that woman'. But always the almost visceral hatred when her mother spoke about Naomi. Her mother was still riffing on the theme that Naomi had 'corrupted' her dutiful youngest twin before she had the chance to decide her orientation. Still convinced that if she'd never met the blonde, her life would have taken a totally different direction. As if without Naomi at Roundview, Emily would have discovered a deeply buried fascination with cock. Jesus, even Katie had accepted by now that a 'nice young man' would never be a solution to Emily's problems. She'd always been gay right from puberty, end of. But Jenna Fitch was not a woman to change her opinion once formed.

"Mum...listen. Naomi is not the villain here? Yes, she was living with Cook when we met up again...but that was as much a lie as me living 'happily' with Effy? We were both going through the motions, both trying to persuade ourselves that we were being what we wanted to be and with the person we loved. But as soon as we set eyes on each other again, all that went out of the window..."

"Along with your common sense Ems" Katie added from the sidelines. Emily flashed her twin a dark look...the last thing she needed was a Fitch ambush from yet another direction. Katie just arched an unrepentant eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest.

"Not helpful Katie" Emily said coldly "Look mum...me and Naomi..."

"You and Naomi seem to have a habit of getting yourself into trouble Emsy" came from the other side of her. Great, she thought...now my dad wants to chip in too. She turned to him more in hope than expectation. He might think badly of Naomi right now, but he'd always been easier to talk to than her mother. It was hard to think of him as anything other than an ally, even back in the dark days after Naomi fucked off to Cyprus, leaving her tearful and alone.

"Dad...please...can you be on _my_ side?" she begged quietly

"I am on your side kid...always have been. But your mums right. The facts are there to see for all of us. I never disliked Naomi..."

He got a cold glare from her mum for that.

"...but you have to accept she's brought a lot of trouble with her, sweetheart? Drug dealing, gangsters and now poor Effy murdered...not to mention getting you in the firing line with this crazy killer? No Emsy...better to walk away now...it'll be better in the end...I promise?"

That was the final blow for Emily. She expected her mum and Katie to gang up on her. But her dad too? She covered her eyes with both hands and cried bitterly. Her family stood in a silent circle, patiently waiting for her to stop.

And so...after that awful final conversation with Naomi on the phone, she'd allowed herself to be bundled into the Fitch MPV and driven out of London, down the M5 to Bristol.

Which is where she was now. Folding clean towels and underwear ready for ironing...being the quiet, obedient little Emily her family preferred. It was almost too easy...turning back into the creature they preferred. She spent most of the day sitting in the park watching children play or walking aimlessly along streets that seemed oddly unfamiliar these days. Nights she lay awake in her old single bed, looking at the reflected glow of the street lights on the ceiling. In stasis...isn't that what they call it? Existing.

At least no one had yet suggested she start job hunting. They seemed content to let her idle the days away. ' _Recovering_ ' her mother called it.

But she knew one thing above anything else. She would never recover unless she put things right with Naomi.

…

Naomi

"Cook...get up you lazy fucker...your breakfast is getting cold"

Naomi huffed as she put his piled high plate of cholesterol into the microwave. He'd been out last night until 1 am. Not getting pissed….working.

Yeah, working, she thought somewhat incredulously. Good old honest labour. With Max, Rebecca and virtually the whole network out of circulation, this part of London was now safe for them both to move about. Safe enough for Cook to sweet talk one of the bar managers in the City to do him a favour. She'd probably been one of Cook's one night stands, Naomi thought wryly when he gave her the news that he'd got a job. It wouldn't have come as a great shock to her. But that was by the by now. They were no longer a 'couple'... not even a fuck buddy arrangement now existed. Now they just shared the flat and the bills. Two weeks had been long enough to establish some ground rules. The one thing Max had done for them before he went psycho was to get Rebecca to pay 6 months rent in advance on the apartment. It was done for purely selfish reasons back then. With her and Cook in debt to him he would be able to bank on their silence. But with the attempt on Emily's life and the murder of Effy, all bets were off. But the landlord had the money. He was happy that one of his tenants had paid up front for a change. They had that 6 months to begin again.

So Cook getting a bar job was the first step on that ladder. Even as they discussed what life would be like going forward, Naomi had lots of reservations. Cook might settle for platonic sharing for now...but there was the tricky matter of him still loving her? She'd caught him giving her sidelong glances from time to time. He might look stupid...but he was anything but. Cook was well capable of biding his time.

Naomi had even persuaded the Belgian guy who owned the local deli to give her a few hours work too, Morning shifts, 7.30 till one, cash in hand. Probably not enough to allow them to stay in the plush flat after the 6 months were up, but enough to keep her mind occupied for at least part of the day.

The rest of it of course...was filled with red...and brown. Hair and eyes...she saw them everywhere. Except of course, they never were the ones she wanted to see.

Or not.

Naomi was pretty good at shutting down. Its a skill she'd perfected over her whole life. Close out the bad things, concentrate on the task in hand. Even as a 14 year old, with itinerant lodgers coming and going so often she caustically asked her mother if a revolving front door wouldn't be more convenient, to the car crash that was her aborted affair with Emily Fitch at Roundview. Then there was the convenient crutch called James Cook. Pun intended. She'd used him shamelessly to block out the hurt and despair in those bleak, post Emily days. Always around, always ready to supply her with drugs or rough sex to crowd out her inner dread.

She knew history was repeating itself, even as she swore to herself that drugs and any kind of hetero sex were completely off the menu now. Still using poor Cook as a beard….even though it held risks.

But it worked...after a fashion anyway. They ate together, watched TV in the early evening side by side on the couch (ostentatiously not touching) until he went of to his evening shift. They slept separately of course...Cook content to let her have the double bed while he crashed on the couch. When she left in the morning to go to work, he would mumble something approximating 'good morning' and when the door had closed, would stumble into the bedroom and collapse onto the unmade bed, sleeping till she got back.

She didn't have the heart to bawl him out for taking over her bed...she felt bad enough as it was. So she let him.

It was as fucked up a relationship as any she'd had. But as long as Cook was undemanding...as long as the crooks and murderers were securely locked away...she did her shut down thing and concentrated on surviving….without Emily.

…

In Bristol, Emily was similarly distracted. But unlike Naomi, she didn't have a convenient prop to stick by her. Jenna and Rob were mostly keeping their distance...allowing her to ghost walk through the days. But it couldn't last. Something had to give.

Unknown to Emily, she was the subject of a conversation in a quayside bar that night. Nothing sinister this time...but her return from London was hot news amongst certain female Bristolians.

"Hey Mandy...remember that sexy little Fitch girl you used to drool over back at College?"

The tall dark skinned woman turned from the guy who was unsuccessfully trying to chat her up and looked quizzically at the person who'd spoken.

"Emily...Emily Fitch you mean?" she said, a rush of memory making her voice go up an octave.

"Yeah...thats the one...her sister was quite the alpha cow if I remember...they were like chalk and cheese. Anyway...you know she fucked off to London with that weird Stonem bitch?...Well, she's back. Wendy at the deli said she's back with mama and papa...on her own?"

Mandy brushed off the guy who was ogling her boobs...he had no chance anyway, but she was on her third ' _sex on the beach_ ' just for smiling politely as he conversed with the swell of her tits. But this was hot news..Emily Fitch...back in Bristol...and alone?

She smiled at the good news.

"Fuck she's well hot...I fancied her like mad back then, but first it was that bitch Campbell...then when _she_ fucked up Effy was straight in there...I never got a chance to..."

"Shag her brains out?" the other woman finished for her helpfully.

Mandy flinched a bit at the crudity.

"It wasn't quite that basic Sarah...I really liked her...maybe I'll pop over there tomorrow...you know, commiserate for the break up and that...you never know?"

Sarah sniggered.

"Right... _then_ shag her brains out?"

Mandy smirked.

"Bitch" she chuckled, "...but yeah _then_ shag her brains out"

…

 **More soon?**


	28. Chapter 28

**Once again, many thanks for the kind reviews and messages. I appreciate every one of them. This story is winding to a close, but there is a bit to go yet. I hope I have helped in some small way to keep the Naomily flag flying. Its hard to believe that those 16 year old actors are now into their late twenties. Kat in America (it seems permanently), hoovering up extravagant praise for her many endeavours, Meg too is an LA lady now. Lily? Well, I have no idea. Her output on TV and on film has totally dried up since late 2016. I hope she's doing what she wants to, whatever that is. It would be a crime to lose that talent and beauty altogether. Jack is going from strength to strength and is now a major film star. Good on him. Kaya too, when she's not having babies and getting married, is still working on the big screen. Luke is a popular TV star too. Lisa I know was at Uni, but she's obviously quite happy not being back on set. Ollie and Merv? Who knows...but I think Skins to them was a pleasant diversion, not a career choice? Each to their own. I wish them all well...they brought joy to millions of us, and through this medium still do, both for writers and readers.**

 **OK, enough pontificating. My thanks also extend to those people who are still like me, writing. In particular _mswitsend_ , who continues to excite, alarm and fascinate us with the excellent and gripping ' _Walls_ '. **

**On with the slomo car crash known as Triangle!**

Dawn.

Emily slowly parted one gummy eyelid, squinting against the harsh daylight arcing across her vision. Bristol sunshine...an event so rare it might make the national news, she grumbled internally. Should be fucking banned…

She chanced the other eye and suppressed a pained groan as it too generated a rapid squint. Fucking sunshine. Fucking morning actually...from somewhere in the back of her fuddled mind a nagging appointment for today prodded her. _Katie_...something about a shoe emergency... shopping?...Again the groan was suppressed as she wriggled slightly further into the duvet wrapped tightly around her body….her naked body.

Her eyes opened again. Wide this time, despite the harsh light coming in through the window. A window which definitely did NOT belong in the Fitch house. A large picture window with pale blue curtains she had _definitely_ never seen before. Panic almost made her cry out, but again she managed to suppress it. Instead she did a quick and trembling mental inventory. She was in a strange bed...naked...with the remains of a hangover thudding faintly behind her eyes. Not a crushing, _dwarves_ _with hammers, God_ _alone_ _knows what I_ _got up to_ _last night_ hangover...but a hangover nevertheless. No sensation of recent drug abuse either. Her memory of waking in that Paris hotel room after Effy's sly application of MDMA and GHB was still vivid enough for her to know _that_ hadn't happened last night. She allowed a small bit of relief to soothe her mind. But still...she was in a strange bed...and naked. What the actual fuck?

Letting herself relax a tiny bit, she mentally checked herself over. Headache, yep. Dry mouth...ditto. But no aches and pains over her body, and...most critically...no tell tale ache between her legs...no stickiness...no tingling. She hadn't been shagged, that was clear.

She sighed quietly at that solitary bit of good news. Thank God.

Then the events of last night crashed into her mind like a digger on ram raid duties.

Agreeing to a drink with...Jesus with... _Mandy_?

The Mandy Teague who'd followed her around like a devoted puppy for months after Naomi had fucked off to Cyprus. The Mandy who, even after Effy had comprehensively claimed Emily for herself, still held a bright and crackling torch for her. The flowers in the locker...the little notes passed in English Lit...the earnest pleas for 'just one date, Em'?

That fucking Mandy.

Suddenly her relief dissipated like a shallow puddle in the sun. Emily knew she hadn't been screwed….but horror of horrors...had _she_ shagged _Mandy_?

She had to know. Still unable to bring herself to turn over...in case a naked and smiling Ms Teague was _right there_...next to her, she pulled the hand which was tucked under her chin out and held her fingers up to her nose, shuddering at the way she had automatically selected the hand she preferred to…. _fuck?_

Please God...please God...please **God** , she begged silently.

Another flood of relief washed over her as the only scent on her fingers was her own skin. She hadn't fucked Mandy either.

Emily swallowed the unasked for sob of joy which threatened to burst free. She might be in a strange bed, without nightclothes, but she hadn't fucked up...not to the extent of giving Mandy what she'd craved from 6th form anyway. At last she felt strong enough to roll over, gritting her teeth at the prospect of finding an equally nude Mandy lying beside her.

This time, when the bed proved to be empty, Emily did allow a gasp to escape her mouth. She was alone...and even better...the bed beside her showed no sign of occupation. No dent in the pillow, no rumpled sheets...just a blank space.

"Thank fuck" she muttered pitifully, staring up at the uncaring ceiling "...Emily Fitch...you need to sort yourself the hell out?"

She sat up gingerly, holding the duvet to her chest. Looking round the unfamiliar bedroom, she spotted a neatly folded bundle of clothing…. _her_ clothing...right down to the carefully aligned black Vans under the chair her clothes were lying on. She concentrated on listening to the rest of the apartment, trying to detect any sounds of movement, but nothing broke the silence apart from her own uneven breathing. Quickly she slid out of the bed and made a grab for her underwear. She shimmied into her knickers, all the time keeping a wary eye on the closed bedroom door. Her bra then, swiftly followed by the black Foo Fighters sweatshirt and matching leggings she'd been wearing last night. Once in her clothes, her breathing and heart rate slowed to something approaching normal. Sitting back heavily on the bed and running hands through her dark hair, she allowed her racing mind to clear a little. Right...what the fuck happened?

...

A hundred miles away, another woman was waking. This time in her own bed.

" _Fuuuuck_ " Naomi groaned. Her hangover was brutal. Unlike Emily, she'd really gone for it last night. Drink, drugs and lots of wild dancing. It had been almost 3 weeks since her last conversation with the twin. Three weeks during which she had idled along in neutral...going through the motions of living. Get up, make breakfast (putting Cook's in the microwave...inevitably) walking the three blocks to her job. A few hours later, two bags of shopping in her hands, she was back in the apartment. Kicking Cook out of her bed and making him shower, before cooking dinner and collapsing into the couch to watch mindless soaps and reality TV. Anything to blot out thoughts...memories.

And then repeat…

But yesterday had been different. Not in a good way. It started with a conversation with her mother. Never a thing she relished. Not because she didn't secretly love her mum….a confession only the Spanish Inquisition could get out of her But she knew that before she could cut the homely motherly advice short, usually by pretending there was someone at the door, Gina would bring up the subject Naomi avoided like the plague yet craved more than anything.

Emily Fitch.

Naomi actually thought she might get away with it this time. There were no " _have_ _you spoken to..._ " or " _has she called yet…?_ " opening lines. Not even a less than subtle aside about letting bygones be bygones (what the fuck _was_ a bygone anyway?) so the blonde was lulled into a dangerously false sense of security. Having gone through the "are you eating properly?" and "so...when can I expect my only daughter to visit?" stages, Naomi was eyeing the bottle of Chablis she had brought home from work with more than her usual desire, when the bombshell dropped.

"Oh...nearly forgot love. I saw _E_...umm, your ex yesterday? Was just dropping off little Jacob at his mums...you know I do a bit of child minding now in the evenings?...Erika's got a job behind the counter at the late night chemist...so I look after the little darling from 5 to 9?"

Naomi desperately wanted to claw her own eardrums out. Her mothers capacity for mindless burbling was bad enough, now she had the added ingredient of a sighting of Emily Fitch to sour the mix. Her instinct was to thumb the off button on her phone immediately, but the tiny sliver of guilt she felt for not keeping her mother updated on her wreckage of a life prevented her doing it. How she wished later her bad temper had won out…

"...anyway...I'm rambling, as per usual" Gina said brightly... (no shit Sherlock, Naomi gritted) "...it _was_ nice to see her with a smile on her face for a change though. Every time I've bumped into her before, these past few weeks, she looked like she'd had a personality transplant...more grumpy old Naomi Campbell than cheerful little Emily Fitch?"

" _Mum_..." Naomi said warningly "...I really _don't_ need to hear this…?"

"Oh sorry luv...I just thought..after what you said before...you know, about you both needing to move on...start new lives… you'd be pleased she's happy again?"

"Pleased about _what_ mum?" Naomi grated, hating how her voice had gone all high pitched and breathless. She really didn't want to hear what happened next, but like a sore tooth, she knew her mum would keep prodding till it ached.

"That she's done just that...moved on I mean? She was with that...what's her name? You know the tall girl with dark hair...looks a bit Indian? I think you said something about her having a crush on Emily when you were sixth formers?...they were obviously out on the town...pretty dresses and all..."

Naomi's mouth dropped open as if she'd been shot in the head.

"M.. _Mandy_...Mandy Teague?….No mum you must have got that wrong. Emily would never...she always said Mandy creeped her out? It must have been someone who looked a bit like her...I...I..."

"No sweetheart. It _was_ her...Mandy, yes…. thats it. In fact, thinking back I heard Emily say something to her as they went past. It sounded like Mandy...funny, Emily normally speaks to me, but they shot past really quickly when she recognised my face. Still….if she's moved on luv, you really need to start..."

This time Naomi did thumb the disconnect button. The phone fell from her fingers into the carpet.

In Bristol, Gina Campbell smiled silently as the line went dead. She knew Naomi thought she was a mad old bat, prone to long rambles about nothing much, but there was a method to her quirkiness. She _had_ seen Emily out with the tall dark skinned girl, but only one of them looked happy about it. Emily was trudging along beside the taller girl, looking as if she was enduring rather than enjoying the night out. When she saw Gina, the pretty twin's face paled dramatically. Obviously this was something she really didn't want getting back to Naomi. But just as she opened her mouth to say something to her ex's mum, a bus pulled up beside them and the moment was gone. Gina had just smirked at her knowingly and walked quickly on. On the bus, Emily craned her neck to see, but the older woman was lost in the crowd already. Mandy was still chattering away cheerfully, on a high now Emily was finally out with her.

But Gina read the situation correctly. Emily might be going through the motions, but her heart was definitely not in it.

However her daughter wasn't to know that. And that sort of potent ammunition was not to be wasted. Gina knew exactly how it would go down with Naomi. The click of the line going dead was testimony to that.

Humming as she simmered some vegetables to go with the quiche she was making, Naomi's mum could almost predict the timetable from now on. Naomi would fume for a while...then probably go out and get royally hammered... _then_ be on the first train down to Temple Meads tomorrow. Her daughter might think they were like chalk and cheese, but there were many more similarities than differences between the Campbell women. She decided to change the bed covers in Naomi's old room this evening...it would be needed tomorrow…

 **Short I know, but as there are probably only two chapters left, I thought I'd finish here and start the penultimate one tomorrow. Thanks for dropping by!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Last but one then guys. I think the Naomily asteroids are on collision course…**

Emily

When she finally plucked up the courage to walk out of the bedroom, Emily found a sleeping Mandy occupying the whole couch... and then some. She knew Mandy was tall, but fuck me she thought...she's an actual giant? Long legs draped way over the arms of the long sofa and head just about resting on the other end. It must have been an uncomfortable night? The twinge of guilt Emily felt at that was tempered by more than a little cheeriness that she hadn't actually done the dirty deed with her old college classmate after all.

Bits of last night were starting to come back, piece by piece. Like seeing Gina in the street and almost howling with frustration at what Naomi would think once she found out. It was supposed to just be a quiet couple of drinks in an out of the way pub...something to take her mind off blue eyes and blonde hair for a couple of hours. But seeing Naomi's mum had poured cold water over that casual whimsy. Emily had no doubt that her ex would be updated pretty quickly on how she was getting on with life in Bristol.

She wanted to abort the night out there and then. But what was she going to do instead? Go back to Fitch Towers...endure the smug expression of her sister and the overly attentive concern of her parents? Life had become an endurance test, a trial...treading water day after day. No...it didn't take that much persuading for Mandy to convince her that a couple of drinks was better than retiring hurt at the first obstacle. Emily might feel like she was cheating just for agreeing to go out, but it was a done deal now. Even though she had deliberately played down the ' _date_ '...dressing down in the oldish band sweatshirt and black leggings….and even though Mandy had done the complete opposite...wearing a sheer blue silk cocktail dress that accented her considerable curves, she gritted her teeth and carried on to the pub. What was done was done...after all, it didn't look like Naomi was going to forgive her this side of the rapture…

So one drink had turned to a bottle of red, then another. Enough to get her pleasantly buzzed but not catatonic. Emily thought she'd had enough of being out of control to that extent.

Flashes kept reappearing in her mind as she stood over Mandy, watching the girl sleep. The booze, the long rambling monologues which always seemed to end up with Naomi's name dotted through them. In the end it was Mandy who put her hand up in refusal when the waitress offered yet another bottle of wine. Her sympathy for Emily's misery was clearly fast running out. By the time they left the bar, even the ever hopeful dark eyed girl seemed to have accepted she wasn't going to be shagging anyone this night.

Emily didn't remember much else...but the fact that she'd ended up naked and alone in Mandy's bed was still a real concern. Just as she was about to sneak out, leaving the other girl to sleep and resigning herself to never finding out, Mandy opened one eye and grinned up at her.

"Bit pervy Emily...staring at me when I'm sleeping?" she said huskily.

There was no malice in her tone, just a sort of quiet amusement.

"Oh...so...sorry" Emily said, stepping back a pace from the couch.

"To answer the question you're _not_ asking...no we didn't" Mandy said, yawning "We got back here...you decided you wanted a couple more tequilas before the taxi came...then you went into the bathroom and when you didn't come out after a few minutes, I went in and found you slumped on the floor...covered in sick?"

Emily stared at Mandy, but her face showed no sign of pretence. Jesus...she'd even turned a quiet drink into a complete fuck up. Her face burned with embarrassment.

"Fuck Mandy...that's disgus...I mean I'm _so_ sorry...but how did…?"

She looked down at herself...yep, still wearing what she'd had on last night. But no vomit or smell of it.

Mandy smiled again, a little warmer this time and sat up, holding the single sheet to her shoulders...something Emily was truly grateful for...it looked like Mandy slept naked too…

"I took your clothes off...you were pretty out of it by then...mumbling something about...well I think you know _who_...anyway...I washed you down, cancelled the cab... got you into my bed...not exactly how I'd _hoped_ to get you naked by the way…?" she smirked, which made Emily blush harder. Jesus...Mandy had got her wish….getting her knickers off...but definitely not in the way she wanted?

"Anyway...you went to sleep almost straight away...I managed to get a glass of water and two aspirins down you, but then you crashed. I came back out here...put your clothes in the washer dryer and finished the tequila while I was waiting? About half two, I ironed your clothes and put them in the bedroom for you. Then I crashed too...end of a perfect evening?"

Emily winced at the matter of fact way Mandy was taking it. Guilt surged again. She should _never_ have agreed to that drink. The tall girl had always been crazy about her, right from Roundview days. It was cruel of her to encourage hopes of anything happening between them. Even if she hadn't met Naomi again...she'd never seriously considered dating Mandy. She'd just been convenient...someone to bore all night with her own misery.

"Mandy...look, I'm _really_ sorry...it was shit of me to do that to you. I had no right...and you've been so sweet...I feel a complete bitch now…?"

Mandy shrugged and dropped the sheet, standing up in one athletic movement. Emily didn't have time to avert her eyes as the taller girl stood over her. Her mind registered smooth mocha skin and a pert pair of dark tipped breasts. The candy striped briefs covered her further down, but it was still a hell of a sight. Despite herself, Emily's inner lesbian thrilled a tiny bit at all that naked flesh. She bit her lip and forced her eyes to stay on Mandy's dark brown ones.

"Emily" the other girl said softly, reaching across and brushing a stray lock of hair aside. Emily just managed to avoid flinching at the gesture. A mostly naked woman was standing inches away...it was all _way_ too distracting?

"Emily...look its OK. Really?...I knew going in there was no way we were gonna hook up. Its obvious you're still crazy about Naomi...though quite why you're fucking about in Bristol, when your hearts in London, I don't know. Take some friendly advice Em...don't waste any more time...go and get your girl?"

Emily felt a lump in her throat as big as a house. Not only had she used Mandy as a sounding board for her misery, then chucked up in her bathroom and ejected her from her own bed.. now Mandy was giving her sound relationship advice. She might not fancy the tall girl, but right now she owed her big time.

"You're a really nice..." she started before Mandy shook her head sharply.

" _No_ Em...please don't say it. I'm not _that_ fucking noble. Truth?...I've always wanted to have you...and if you'd given me the tiniest bit of encouragement last night, I would have, Naomi Campbell or not. I fancy the pants off you...always have. But it's not happening...is it?"

Emily shook her head sadly. If there had been any way she could show her appreciation short of shagging Mandy, she'd have done it.

"OK...I hear you" Emily said instead. "But...can I just say thank you…?

"Sure" Mandy grinned crookedly.

Emily leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on the other girls full lips, lingering just enough to make it meaningful.

Mandy swayed a little as Emily finally stepped back.

" _Jesus_ Emily...you certainly know how to make a girls morning..." she said, eyes wide "...now...if you'll excuse me...I need a long bubble bath.. the bus stop is about 150 metres away if you turn left from my front door? Babe, after _that_ kiss, I might need some Mandy time?...a nice warm bath and...well, lets just say even drunk and rambling...it was nice to _finally_ see that hot little bod properly?"

Emily flushed again, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Jesus Mandy... _way_ too much fucking information?" she half laughed, half choked.

The tall girls giggle followed her as she walked quickly to the door.

…

Naomi

Over her hangover now...well, at least she had it under control with extra strength painkillers and what seemed like several litres of tap water, Naomi gritted her teeth as the obnoxious young oaf opposite her on the train kicked her leg for the fiftieth time since they'd left Paddington.

Unlike Emily, Naomi hadn't woken up with a random close by. Neither had she regressed and given Cook a farewell shag. Instead, she'd rolled in the door at silly o clock this morning supported by a grinning Cook, drunk as a rat and absolutely knackered after dancing non stop until 2 am. That was her version of avoidance therapy. Get pissed, throw all her energy into thrashing around to whatever trance shit was on the turntables and lose herself in pure, mindless sensation. Cook had been there all night...of course. Watching from the bar as a succession of male and female hopefuls approached her, or tried to invade her hedonistic space. None of them managed it. The best they got was a brief grind against her from behind. After a few seconds, she would spin away and give herself room again. Even when a very attractive redhead persisted and tried to wind slim arms round her neck, Naomi wriggled free, offering just an apologetic smile in return. Tonight wasn't about copping off...it was about smashing the mental images she'd suffered ever since her mother dropped that calculated hand grenade about Emily 'moving on'.

Finally, as the music slowed and she realised she'd never have any peace on the floor, she made her way back to a sad eyed Cook and silently accepted the long cocktail glass he held out.

"Not working, is it blondie?" Cook murmured in her ear as she swayed to the slower beat, trying not to catch anyone's eye.

"Dunno what you mean" she slurred "I'm having _fun_ Cook...you should try it mate...instead of standing on your own at the bar like a total loser?"

The flash of hurt that crossed his face made her scold herself at the unsubtle insult. She knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth that she'd been too cruel with that jibe. The reason her ex was standing at the bar watching her so closely, was because he knew she was vulnerable. It was Cook being Cook. Looking out for her. She put down her drink with a clunk on the shiny glass bar and waved her hand.

"Sorry Cook...that was...fucking uncalled for. I know you'd rather be out there pulling...Listen, if you wanna go now, that's cool...really. I'll be fine...just one more dance, then I'll be on my way home...Go on...that little blonde along the bar has been shooting you longing looks since we got here...Nailed on shag that one...I bet she'd blow away the fucking cobwebs, Cookie boy…?"

Cook fixed her with a level stare. He knew her better than anyone...well, apart from a certain beautiful twin from Bristol anyway...and the act she was putting on was transparent.

"Naah, blondie" he drawled, draining his own glass in one "...look, that bird will be here another night...but I ain't leaving you on your own. You're not fooling anyone...let alone me. Have some free advice, even though I know you'll tell me to fuck off?"

"Go on then Sigmund Freud...disappoint me" Naomi said dryly, emptying the rest of her own cocktail and trying to get the attention of the stressed out barman.

Cook sighed and waited for the guy to refill their glasses, passing a £20 across the bar.

"Go down to Bristol...go and get your girl Naomikins. She fucked up... we both know that. But you two?...fucking made for each other. All this shit will pass...but you two won't. I don't care how many miles you put between you...its gonna happen. She ain't you babe...she's never gonna be able to put up those Campbell walls to protect her...so she's gonna hurt a bit...and do a bit of running when things go sideways. But she loves you...more than anything in this shit world. Don't die not knowing…?"

Naomi had tears in her eyes. She knew what it was costing Cook to say all this.

Giving her back.

"When did you get so wise, you soppy big lump" she said hoarsely, wrapping her arms round his neck and squeezing hard.

"Always was babe...trouble is, I can see other peoples mistakes a mile off...its just my own that I can't spot".

They stood like that for long moments while people laughed, danced and drank around them. Two lost souls clinging together.

…

And now, on the fast afternoon train to Temple Meads, Naomi ignored the restless limbs of the acne riddled 15 year old opposite as he jerked and twitched with unused energy, iPhone plugged into both ears. Live and let live for a change, she thought. Yesterday she would have sourly ripped him a new one...today there was a strange and unaccustomed feeling of well-being flowing over her. Whatever moves this fucking Mandy was putting on Emily...she was outmatched. Naomi was on her game today. Time to take back what was always hers…

…

Emily

" _I don't care"_

Emily had said it at least 6 times so far, but with the full might of the Fitch machine lined up against her, it was getting hard to stick to the line. But she was hanging in there.

...

Getting back from Mandy's this morning, she'd steeled herself for the inevitable post mortem. Whilst her mum and dad would purse their lips at her staying the night at a girls house...specially one she'd only gone out with once, so long as it wasn't Naomi, they'd probably grin and bear it.

Katie of course was delighted. When Emily walked into the bedroom she thought she'd never share with her sister again (although Katie had her own place now, she'd insisted on taking the other single bed whilst her twin was at home...to make sure Emily ' _kept to the straight and narrow_ '...pun intended) Katie smirked at Emily from her place in front of the supposedly shared dressing table.

"Got some fanny time at last then sis…?" she said slyly "...that Mandy's a fast worker if she got you to stay the night first time out...good shag was she?"

Emily made a disgusted face.

"I know we _look_ alike Katiekins..." knowing the old Roundview nickname infuriated her twin "...but don't assume I drop my knickers _quite_ as quickly as you do. I normally wait till I get a surname before taking my clothes off?"

Katies face was like thunder.

"Fuck you Emily" she said "I was trying to be supportive...I just meant its good you're getting out there again...even if it is with a huge cave troll?"

Emily let the insult slide.

"Mandy was nice, but just for your information, we didn't shag. I stayed the night alone in her bed...she took the couch. But thanks for your concern?"

Sarcasm was normally wasted on Katie and today was no exception.

"Still...you're gonna see her again right? Must have gone OK if you stayed the night...anything's gotta be an improvement on that utter cunt Campbell?"

Emily had done a lot of thinking on the bus back. Enough to be sure what she intended to do now. Katie was just one third of her problems. She decided to tackle the whole Fitch family at once, rather than do it piecemeal.

"Actually I've decided to go back to London today. I still have the apartment to sort out...and...well, there's no point in having this conversation three times. I need a shower and change...but can you ask mum and dad to wait in the lounge for me...I have something I need to say?"

Katie tried to argue, but Emily ended the conversation by taking a towel and walking towards the bathroom . Once the door was closed behind her, there was some sort of peace.

Fifteen minutes later, showered, changed and with an overnight bag packed, she walked quietly downstairs. She could hear the murmur of voices in the lounge, which stopped abruptly when the third stair from bottom creaked under her foot.

Time to pay the piper...she thought, dropping the leather bag by the front door and taking a deep breath.

Ten minutes later she was getting tired of repeating the same phrase.

" _I don't care_ "

Because she didn't. Didn't care that her mother in particular hated Naomi. Didn't care that her family were 'disappointed in her'. Didn't care that even her dad was dead against her going back to London...to Naomi.

Because if last night had proved anything, it was that being with anyone else was a non starter. Not even Effy...at her most alluring and overtly sexual could compare. Finally she was sure...sure that nothing else would do.

" _Em_ _sy ._ _..this is stupid love...give it another couple of weeks...let the dust settle?_ "

She shook her head at her fathers attempt at reason.

" _You are NOT going anywhere near that...that_ _ **creature**_ _Emily Fitch...I_ _absolutely_ _forbid it_ "

Her mothers angry face would once have reduced her to meek compliance, but for once in her life, Jenna Fitch had miscalculated.

" _For fucks sake Emsy...isn't one dead body enough? That bitch has brought you nothing but heartache and danger….be sensible for once in your life...she's poison_ "

Emily stared levelly at Katie, who was standing right next to her mother, both glaring at her.

"Listen...I'm really grateful for you putting me up for the past few weeks. But I'm an adult now...and I want...no I _need_ to sort things out with Naomi"

She shook her head as her mother opened her mouth to argue.

"No mum...no more arguments. I've called a taxi. I'm getting the afternoon train into St Pancras. With any luck, I'll be in my own bed tonight. I'm truly grateful….and you know I love you all...but running away has never done me any good before. I need to talk to Naomi, to put things right. It's not all her fault...and it's unfair for you to blame her for everything. Effy was the one who tried to mess with a gangster, not Naomi"

There were another few attempts to change her mind, but Emily stood blank faced with folded arms as they tried every trick in the Fitch play-book to make her give in. But unlike every time in the past, she was adamant. Time to take control of her own destiny...if Naomi would ever forgive her that is.

Half an hour later, Emily was getting out of a cab outside Temple Meads Station.

…

Inside the station, Naomi was arguing with a bald guy in the just arrived train. His overstuffed briefcase had landed on her head as she waited for the crowd of passengers to empty the gangway. Bad enough the twitchy teenager had continued his unconscious assault on her legs for the rest of the journey. Now this fuckwit had made her see stars just as she was about to get up. Worse, he wasn't overly apologetic.

"Thanks for the wake up call mate" she said sarcastically as he hauled the battered Gladstone bag from her shoulder. He shrugged and mouthed a sorry he obviously didn't mean.

Her earlier good mood had slightly evaporated as they pulled into the station. All well and good having good intentions, but that Mandy was a persistent bitch. Even as Naomi was pretending indifference to Emily back in 6th form, she would often find the tall girl 'comforting' a sad faced Emily in the common room. She had a knack of being in the right place to offer a supportive shoulder and it bugged the hell out of the blonde. Maybe thats why Naomi was so blind sided when, after coming back from Cyprus, she found Effy Stonem in residence as Emily's companion instead.

In any case, she gave the sweaty businessman a blistering volley, just to keep her hand in. While other passengers watched with a mixture of amusement and awe, she verbalised a short but cutting resume of his shortcomings, from his follically challenged head to his straining waistband,.

Finally free to disembark, Naomi gave the guy one last hard stare before exiting the carriage. Right...time for a taxi...the lions den...aka Fitch Mansions awaited.

…

At the entrance to Temple Meads, Emily was paying her cabbie. She only had the one bag and used the shoulder strap to sling it across herself before weaving through the dozens of arriving and departing bodies. Even at this time of day, it was busy.

She caught a glimpse of blonde hair in the crowd inside the concourse and mentally chided herself. She thought she'd got over that Pavlovian response years ago. Shaking her head, she pushed through a crowd of chattering Chinese students.

"E... _Emily_?" she heard from beside her as she ducked her head under the windmilling arms of the students anxious tutor.

Her stomach lurched and twisted as the voice penetrated her self absorption. She almost laughed. It couldn't be...could it?

But it was.

 **Last chapter coming up.**


	30. Chapter 30

**Last one guys (pause for relieved sigh from thousands). Its been fun playing with the characters again. I hope some people at least enjoyed my ramblings. Can't really say if there is anything left in the tank, but I will be thinking about a smutty and/or angsty one shot at least. Thanks again to my lovely readers and reviewers. You guys have been awesome!**

 **Having just re read ' _Now and Then_ ' for about the fifth time, it warms my heart to remember just how damned good this site was in the past. But at least we _do_ have a trio of stunning stories still on the go, so all is not yet lost. I'll enjoy reading them.**

 **Thanks again!**

Temple Meads Station

Emily watched closely as Naomi stood at the counter of the coffee shop, tapping her foot impatiently as the longish queue slowly shortened. Her heart swelled when the blonde shot a wry look over her shoulder towards the anxious twin. It wasn't an angry look or a sad one...rather it was the sort of look she _used_ to give Emily when things weren't quite so fucked up. The patented Naomi Campbell ' _l_ _ook at these fuckwits, spoiling my_ _day already_ ' one. The one that said it might be OK again between them….just maybe.

Perhaps she was reading way too much into the fact that Naomi was actually planning on sitting down with her, drinking coffee. Not running away as fast as her legs could carry her, but then Emily knew in her heart that if Naomi had planned on running, she would have done it right there...back when their eyes met in the station concourse. Instead there was shock, surprise...then a tiny glimmer of want, before the taller girl pursed her lips and suggested they find somewhere to sit and talk properly.

It's a start, Emily thought, hanging on to that small piece of hope like a drowning woman to driftwood. She could have just fixed me with that cold stare she keeps in her locker, then carried on towards the exit. But she didn't.

And that was enough to make Emily Fitch hum with nervous anticipation.

Naomi, of course...under that shallow but brittle calm exterior... was actually freaking out big time. She'd had it all planned out. Get to Bristol, drop her bags at her mums, then brave the dragons den, otherwise known as Fitch Towers.

But that all went to shit when she saw Emily making her way towards the platforms. A million emotions cartwheeled through her mind as she saw Emily's petite frame moving towards her. Shock, puzzlement, lust and fear competed for dominance. But there was no time to deal with any of them. In an instant, Emily was right _there_ , head down, struggling with her too heavy overnight bag. Naomi had to suppress an almost irresistible impulse to grab the bag and carry it for her. Something she would have done without hesitation if they'd been travelling together. It was natural, instinctive….to help Emily. Because it was _Emily_.

Balancing two steaming cups of coffee...hers a latte, Emily's a mocha with extra cream and sprinkles (she hadn't asked what her ex wanted...another bit of unconscious conditioning) she made her way back to the table they'd chosen at the rear of the store. Putting them carefully on the table, she briefly considered sitting next to Emily as she would normally, but decided at the last second to chicken out and sit opposite. She saw the small flash of disappointment in those big brown eyes and mentally slapped herself for being the cause of it, but the truth was she was still really scared of being in too close a proximity to her ex. Actual physical contact was a step too far...at least for now. Superwoman wasn't the only one who feared the sort of Kryptonite the younger Fitch carried. No...better to endure that look of disappointment than be reduced to a weak and fumbling wreck before they'd even talked.

"So Em..." she said after taking a sip of the nuclear hot coffee. "...here we are then?"

Emily nodded, using the long wooden stirrer they provide for cream addicts to scoop a line of white confectionery off the top of her cup. She unconsciously used her small tongue to swipe it off, mainly to give herself time to think of an answer. Such an innocuous opening line, but filled with unspoken meaning. It wasn't until she lifted her eyes and stared into the intense blue ones opposite that she realised what she'd done.

Naomi was sitting with her mouth slightly open, her cheeks visibly flushed. That tiny...oh so Emily...gesture had banished every sensible thought in her head to Outer Mongolia. She swallowed hard, trying desperately to keep her expression neutral and failing spectacularly.

" _Oh_ " Emily said as she realised the impact that 'innocent' gesture had had on the blonde. Back in the days when they enjoyed each others company without reservation, a tiny tease like that would produce a hungry growl from Naomi and a quick exit from whichever coffee shop they were in… a horizontal surface was urgently required, although a few vertical ones were used if absolutely necessary. One glimpse of that small, pink (and lets face it, unnaturally talented) tongue brought lurid images into Naomi's kind which had no place at _all_ in a public area. "Sorry..." Emily said, unable to stop thrilling inside that something so small could still have such a dramatic effect on her ex.

Naomi swallowed again, her throat tightening as her treacherous libido threatened to drive anything coherent from her brain. _Focus_ Campbell, she chided herself, looking away from the pretty twin for a long moment. This is no time for your fanny to run the show...we have things to talk about. Lots of things.

When she looked back, Emily had carefully put the stirrer down on her paper napkin and was now adopting a very unconvincing 'who me?' look.

"Right...uh..." Naomi said thickly "...we need...need to to talk Emily. I...I..." she stopped, unsure what it was she had actually planned to say at this point.

Emily reached across the table, putting her small hand over Naomi's. If the unconsciously flirty gesture with the cream had confused Naomi, the sensation of that small cool hand on hers sent a bolt of pure electricity through her frame. Instinctively she went to pull her hand away, but another flash of disappointment in those Bambi eyes opposite stopped her. She felt Emilys palm grip her hand and turn it over. Without either thinking, their fingers linked seamlessly.

" _Jesus_ Em" Naomi gasped, her eyes widening "if you knew what…."

"Oh I do Naoms" Emily said softly "...I do know...its not just you...you know that right?"

Naomi sighed heavily. This wasn't at all how she thought it should go. They were supposed to sort out their differences first...talk properly. But instead, she was being drawn inexorably towards Emily.

The brunette took a deep breath and went for it.

"I'm sorry Naomi...more sorry than I can say. With all that's happened, I went back to being the doormat way too fucking easily, yet again. With my parents and Katie dropping straight into 'Fitch mode' I freaked out a bit. Just when I needed to man up and be there for you. None of this is your fault...I know that. Cook is just an idiot and Effy...well, she was always one to push her luck a bit too far. Not that she deserved what happened to her...but the one thing I've hung on to...locked in the tower at Fitch mansions...is that whatever shit has happened, the single most important thing is me and you. Through it all, I've never wanted to be with anyone else...never wanted to love someone else. I've been stupid and weak...but thats the last time, I promise. I was on my way back to London to beg your forgiveness...ask for another chance...but..."

Naomi squeezed the small fingers laced with her own and gave Emily a faint smile. It was everything she'd hoped for. But wasn't it all a bit too easy? Despite the fact that she'd been on her way to make the peace with Emily...enough of the 'old' Naomi Campbell was still in there, raising doubts.

"Well thats all fine and good Em...but how do I know you won't run for the hills at the first sign of trouble again? Cook is still living at my place..." she paused to let that sink in "...platonically of course. His bail conditions make it impossible for anything else until the trial...but _he's_ not really the issue, is he? If you come back to London with me..." Emily let herself quiver at the idea of being back in Naomi's life "...you'll still have to deal with all the Effy stuff. The police have finished searching both apartments for evidence...apparently they have more than enough now with Rebecca's statement and that creepy assassin getting caught in the act...but even though she's gone...she really isn't, is she Em?"

It was Emily who dropped her eyes first. Naomi was right….Effy was dead, but what remained of her short life was still lingering in their apartment. She cringed inwardly at the thought of having to delete the willowy brunette from their futures. Effy had fatally gambled once too often its true, but Emily still had waking nightmares about her ex's lonely, gruesome ending. Drowned in the bath...coldly strangled. The feral look on that hit-man's face still haunted Emily if she allowed herself too much thinking time. Remembering him standing by their caravan bed, Naomi already unconscious on the floor...his eyes raking over her naked upper torso, waiting patiently until she meekly surrendered to his lust...but both of them aware that her fate and that of her lover would be the exactly the same as poor Effy's in the end. Truly the stuff of nightmares.

She looked up again and nodded.

"I can't argue with that Naomi. You have no reason to trust me yet. I know I'll find it very hard to deal with what we'll find back there. But I make you a promise, my love. No more running away from trouble. If you'll have me...I'll spend the rest of my life showing you that taking a chance on me this time is worth it?"

There was a long silence while Naomi stared at her ex. Was there ever really any doubt, she asked herself? After all, the whole point of coming down here to Bristol was to claim what was hers again. But now she didn't need to stand on the Fitch doorstep pleading her case. Emily was doing it for her in this busy, impersonal cafe.

She looked away for a second before speaking.

"There's never been anyone else for me Em...you know that, right? Other girls...Cook even? Just been marking time...waiting for a miracle. Waiting for you to realise I still loved you. I'd never have chosen this way. Effy dead for God's sake, Cook heartbroken and alone... _our_ whole lives turned upside down. But for all that...I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. Because there really isn't anything else I _can_ do. I love you...always have"

Emilys happy smile lit up the coffee shop like a second sun.

"...and I love _you_ Naomi Campbell...always have" she said, gripping Naomi's hand tightly. "...so…?"

"So lets get the hell out of miserable fucking Bristol and start rebuilding our lives, eh?"

XXX

A week later…

"Jesus Christ on a bike" Naomi gasped, chest flushed and heaving as Emily looked up at her from between a pair of wide open thighs. "How the hell do you even….?"

Her head felt too heavy and she fell back onto the scattered pillows, seemingly unable to stop the trembling aftershocks in her limbs. Her entire body was still tingling from the effects of Emily's nimble tongue and fingers. The dark haired girl smirked happily and licked her glistening lips.

"Practice babe...lots and _lots_ of practice?" she grinned, giving the blondes thigh a playful bite which made the other woman jerk.

"Fuuuck Fitch" Naomi sighed "...I think maybe you broke something down there…?"

Emily shook her head and pouted dramatically.

"I really hope not...I haven't finished with you yet Campbell...In fact I was thinking of..." her eyes flicked sideways to the closed wardrobe door and Naomi gaped in disbelief.

"Not _yet_ Ems...please babe...yesterday was amazing, but I spent all day afterwards walking like a showjumper…?"

Emily's laughter filled the bedroom and after a couple of seconds Naomi joined in.

They'd spent the first couple of days after they got back sorting out practicalities, so the sex had been sporadic and usually rushed. Cook had generously agreed, after Emily's place had been cleared of any Effy themed reminders, to use up the lease there and allow Naomi and Emily to occupy his old place. In the end, they knew this was a temporary arrangement for al of them, but a meeting with the detectives handling the case on the third day had settled a few things. With Max in high security custody alongside his assassin and Rebecca still singing like a coal mine canary to the cops, they had plenty to be getting on with without the bit players. A plea bargain was being negotiated with the CPS which would comprise Cook's outstanding charges being left on file as long as he cooperated with the prosecution. He wouldn't actually have to give evidence in court as his contributions to Max's drug empire were pretty small potatoes, but he had had to make a statement of admission and promise not to compromise the case by getting involved in any drug related matters at least until the trial was over. The prosecution were looking at murder, conspiracy to murder and serious sexual assault charges, both involving Max with his very underage boy and the killers previous 'jobs'...and if the jury convicted Max and his accomplice, neither would be seen in public for several decades, maybe ever. Rebecca would get a limited immunity for turning super grass, then disappear abroad with a new identity and her inevitable hidden stash.

Cook was already sounding out contacts in Manchester for future employment. He still winced occasionally when the two women got a little too affectionate in front of him, but his wandering eye had already sorted out new 'little Cookie' victims. The beginning of the second week, as a bleary eyed Emily opened the front door of the apartment at 8 am to collect the milk, she saw a slim long haired woman leaving Cook's place, flame red hair awry and crumpled white shirt wrongly buttoned. It wasn't till the woman passed her that she realised it was a police uniform top. She closed the door silently and allowed herself to chuckle as she padded barefoot to the kitchen to make coffee. It looked like at least one of the liaison WPC's had succumbed to Cook's persistent laddish charm. Talk about helping with enquiries, Cook was _always_ good at taking down particulars...

But now the hard bits were done...Effy's things boxed and forwarded to her mums in Bristol...Emily's belongings carted along the corridor to Naomi's apartment, they found they had lots and _lots_ of time to...uh reconnect...properly.

Emily took that as her new mission in life. Every room, soft surface and vacant space in the place christened, some more than once. At first Naomi was merely delighted Emily was back in her life...and a very horny Emily at that. She revelled in the morning sex, afternoon sex and night time sex. It was hardly a chore to indulge the sexy twin.

"I want to do _everything_ with you Naoms" Emily said breathlessly after yet again proving that her skills on that lakeside bank years before were acutely tuned now. "...everything its possible for two women in love to think up?"

Naomi shivered at the promise in those words, even though she'd recently come on Emily's thrusting fingers for the second time that evening.

"Jeez Ems...I think we've covered most things already...what dark secret desires are you still harbouring Fitch…?"

Emily smiled wickedly and licked her pink lips.

"Well….true, it's been a _very_ good start, but we have a lot of time to make up for beautiful. I wasted far too long in a sterile relationship...and lets not even mention your little journey into hetero land with Cookie boy?" she arched her eyebrow and giggled as Naomi groaned in embarrassment.

"Not fucking fair Fitch...lets not get into 'all our yesterdays' otherwise I might have to bring up your own little hetero experiment with J..."

Emily scooted up and clamped her hand over Naomi's mouth before the JJ name could emerge in full. She'd virtually erased that embarrassing night from her mind. She winced and shook her tousled head.

"OK, _OK_...fucking jinx. We both have a past we need to forget, mine more than most. But you need to be punished for that last one...hmm, what can I do that'll take your mind _right_ off male gristle…?

Naomi shivered in mock disgust at Emily's over descriptive powers.

"I know...lets make a list" she said, grinning evilly as Naomi goggled down at her.

"No fucking _way_ Ems...I know how competitive you are...and anyway, I'm not up for threesomes, public sex or making home movies?"

This time it was Emily who goggled, then realised Naomi was fucking with her.

"Bitch" she said without malice "...Neither am I...I don't want to share you with anyone...let alone another woman. We've done the public sex one anyway...remember the look on that woman's face when she walked in on us in the changing room at River Island on Saturday?"

Naomi groaned again and held her head in her hands at the memory.

"Fuck Ems...kill me now. I _told_ you it was a bad idea to get handsy in a store…?"

Emily nodded.

"Yeah, right...anyway... and making amateur pornos is just for losers. I remember Katie hiding out at home for a fucking **month** after that sleaze bag Danny talked her into a little blow job phone clip just after we left college. She used to check like a million porn sites every night in case there was a Fitch production hot off the press?"

Naomi was caught between nausea at the idea of her lovers twin sucking dick and hilarity at the image in her head of a teenage Katie panicking, then spending countless fruitless hours checking porno sites for her own face.

"Fuck Em...didn't she have any idea just how many of those sites there are? Jesus, she could still be checking now and be no closer to finding it...and anyway, what the hell would she do about it if she did? They're not exactly known for their public spiritedness...are they?"

Emily smirked at the old memory.

"Yeah, and I guess it was just a little cruel, telling her I thought I'd seen the a glimpse of her now and again…usually when she'd borrowed something of mine and wouldn't give it back?"

"Thats wicked, Fitch..." Naomi grinned, not looking the least bit sincere "...even more wicked coz you didn't let me in on it...I could have got my revenge for al those lezzer insults she sent my way?"

A cloud passed over Emily's face...partly because her sister had made Naomi's life a misery at college and partly because of the way it all went to shit in the end anyway. By the time Naomi came back from Cyprus, Effy had stepped agilely into the blondes place and everything changed.

"Hey, hey..." Naomi said, seeing the humour go out of Emily's face. "...thats the past, yeah? Its been a hard journey for both of us...but we're OK now, aren't we?"

Emily smiled sweetly and snuggled into Naomi's arms.

"Yeah...we're good, hun, Its been pretty shit for a while, but things are gonna get better...well, _even_ better. Its weird how life is sort of a sequence of triangles...me you and Katie back at Roundview, you me and Cook here, Effy, Freddie and Cook, then back to just me and you. Its like some sort of odd symmetry?

She felt Naomi shaking and looked up at her girlfriend in puzzlement. Crying?

Naomi wasn't crying, but laughing.

"Fuck me Ems...that was strange, even from you? I thought I was the philosophical nerd? Talk about Simone de Beauvoir….

Emily pouted and pinched Naomi's very pliable rear end, producing a yelp of pain.

"Bitch" she giggled..."right...the resident in the wardrobe it is then...you need to learn some respect my girl"

Naomi started to protest, then remembered some highlights from last night. A flushed and determined Emily on top of her, thrusting...oh yeah...lots and LOTS of thrusting. She dropped backwards again and relaxed...even showjumping had its good points, didn't it?…

 **Thats it folks. All neatly tied up with a pink ribbon. We'll leave Emily to shag the snarkiness right out of Naomi and fade to black. Thanks for reading and reviewing. See you on the other side?**


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